My Wife and The Food Network



Being a man, I obviously do that annoying thing (at least as far as women are concerned) of channel surfing on the TV.  Because I do it, I knew there was this channel called The Food Network, but I had never checked it out. I mean why would I? I figured it was filed with shows about cooking, most of it fancy high dollar restaurant quality meals. Well, I never get to eat at places like that. You know, the restaurants that have names for courses that sound like a foreign language (or IS a foreign language) and where you are forced to eat ridiculously small portions in a tie.

A TIE for sweet heaven’s sake.

So my man-dar (you know, my male radar) would go off in the register of “Snotty Fine Cooking for the Rich” and I skipped over that channel as fast as possible.

Also being a man, I am not picky about food. If it’s food I can eat without indigestion or an allergic reaction, and if you put it in front of me, it gets eaten with a smile. Hey, I’m just grateful my wife will cook for me.  And yes ladies, before you ask, I HAVE been known to cook. I’m not that bad. I can even boil water. With salt in it. I make a mean gumbo and I love making Mexican Corn Bread. Nothing fancy mind you, I’m a man after all and I kinda fall into that standard of meat and potatoes kind of guy.

Also, because I’m a man, my home is my castle. I’m not a harsh king, even letting my daughter take over the TV to play her playstation, and I even let my wife watch some questionable content that sets of my man-dar. You know, chick flicks, shows with men who all the women swoon over, and try to ignore her sighs of pleasure over the likes of Gerard Butler.

But there are still moments when it’s football, hockey, science-fiction blasting movies, action movies, comedies, documentaries, and other content that most men watch.

Lately though, there has been a bit of an insurrection in my castle.

It all started the day I came home from work, walked in, and didn’t even get a hello from my lovely wife. Why? She was staring in rapt fascination at the TV. So naturally, I looked at the TV to see what she was looking at, figuring it was Gerard Butler again. But no. It was…. The Food Network.

My first response was to scream in horror and ask her what she thought she was doing. But she was IGNORING ME. Again, I’m a fairly nice king in my castle so I muttered under my breath and moved on. Things to do you know. After all, whatever she was watching would go off eventually, and then when I finished what I was doing, I figured we could catch some classic we had seen before. Like the Fifth Element or something (that movie seems to be on every other day). But to my surprise, my wife CONTINUED watching The Food Network. All night long. My curiosity got the best of me so I figured I better check into what she was watching. I didn’t want her getting any snotty food ideas. She was watching some show called Chopped. In it, chefs get a basket of weird ingredients (most that I have never even HEARD of) and had to make a dish with it. I immediately saw how challenging it was and it pleased my man-dar enough for me to watch it and I had to admit later, it was actually not that bad.

So my wife now had a fascination with this show. Not so bad right?  Oh, but that wasn’t all. Things quickly got out of control. She moved on to other Food Network shows. Like The Great Food Truck Race and Restaurant Impossible. And a few more as well. She stayed up late, and watched it during the day. It was all Food Network, all the time.

Football? Nope.

Hockey? Nope.

Action flicks? Nope.

Butwhat really made me realize there might be a problem was when on one Sunday evening, realizing one of her Food Network shows came on at the same time as Game of Thrones (something we both really enjoy), she asked me to DVR her Food Network program. When I did, I noticed the hard drive on it was almost full. I was quite surprised because the week before there was only one or two shows on it. So I naturally scrolled though the listings on the DVR, only to discover it was full and I mean FULL of recorded Food Network shows. She had been recording these shows ALL WEEKEND LONG.

Then she went and asked my parents for a food processor for Christmas, and now, well, you can’t even imagine. The other night she  made chicken meatballs with spinach pesto linguine. Good? Yes. But not the usual fare coming from our kitchen.

That was probably the point when I realized my wife had a problem. An addiction, to The Food Network Channel.  Anyone know of any 12 step programs for it? I mean really, I need to get my TV back sometime soon. The Super Bowl is fast approaching.

Kitteh Galore

So where have I been?  I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but things have been busy, busy, busy.  Between work and making sure my daughter reaches her goal of graduating high school, I’ve been a bit preoccupied.  Not to mention the third tiny, insey whinsey little issue of pregnant cats and a deranged wife.

I’ve explained our family issue of the numerous cats that have decided to take over my property before so I won’t revisit.  However, there is something you need to know about feral cats.  If they are female?  They somehow become pregnant.  Don’t ask me how, this is NOT a kitty porn post.

So somehow, we had 4 female cats get pregnant within weeks of each other (sigh).  Funny thing about pregnant cats?  They suddenly become a lot less feral if they are used to you.

Because of this fact, my wife decided that to get rid of all the kittens, she would need to socialize them.  To do that, she needed to know where they were born.  Feral cats are funny about letting you know where they hide their kittens at.  I guess they think, despite the fact you have been nice to THEM, you will eat them.  In my wife’s quest to get rid of kittens (mhm, like I was buying into that story), she waiting until the cats were as big around as pumpkins, and then GOT THEM IN THE HOUSE.

The result?  15 kittens.  In. My. House.

Further result?

Tripping on kittens.  Kittens climbing my legs. Kittens knocking things over.  Kittens GETTING ON MY LAST NERVE.

If I was a James Bond villain, my name would be Kitteh Galore.  It’s HORRIBLE.

Last night, I was trying to go to sleep and one of them decided to climb the bed and attack various parts of my body even though I wasn’t moving around.

Oh the agony!

Needless to say, as their age is quickly approaching the “kick ‘em out the door” time, I’m SO ready for these balls of fur to go away.

There is light at the end of the tunnel though. We have a number of people already speaking for a portion of the kittens.  But I need MORE PEOPLE TO TAKE THEM.  Also, I saw this advertisement for this device you put in your yard that keeps animals away from it.  Anyone know if these devices work?  I’m ready to invest!

Clandestine Meetings and Babies

Not only does my wife refuse to grow old gracefully, but she pretty much refuses to do anything that resembles normal.  I think she took the idea of being unique to a whole new level.  But maybe she is just weird.  Or is crazy from being married to me for so long.

One of the things that she refused to do normally was be pregnant.  Oh I know, every pregnancy is different.  But well, my wife tried to take this to new heights.

Before I go ahead with that, I guess I really need to start at the beginning.

I used to work for a Secret Government Agency, and my wife worked for an Agency that’s letter’s resemble FBI.  Ok, so FBI it was.  I was overseas, doing secret government work, and she was working on a high profile case.  Trouble was, our cases, so to speak, were connected.  She had documents that I needed information from to seek out my target and save the free world.  I figured it would be easy enough to sneak into her hotel room while she was sleeping.  Trouble is, my wife is not only beautiful, but smart and sneaky.  I was caught red handed, in her hotel room, with a gun to my head.  I, being the witty and charming fellow that I am, managed to talk my way out of a bullet to the head.  I also somehow managed to take advantage of the fact that she slept in the nude.  Did I mention my wife is beautiful?  She is.  It must have been something in the air or water, but in the interest of national security, we decided to pool our resources.  We pooled our resources a number of times that night.  It was sweaty work, but extremely nice.  Because we worked for different agencies, we decided to keep our meeting a secret, thus The Clandestine Meeting of my life.  Several months later, I got notice from her that she was pregnant.  They say it only takes once, but since our Clandestine meeting involved numerous pooling of resources that one night, who knows which pool was to blame.  Well, clearly mine, but that’s how it goes.

Ok, the above might not be true, except for the pregnant part.  My wife DID get pregnant, which came as a shock to us both.  I was happy, she?  Not so much.  At least not at first. By the time she was happy, she had become to realize how blessed she had been with her pregnancy so far.  No morning sickness.  No weird cravings.  Clearly I was also blessed, since I wasn’t sent by an angry hormonal pregnant woman out in the middle of the night to obtain some weird item that she HAD TO HAVE RIGHT NOW.  What she did crave was watermelon, grapes and popsicles.  And by watermelon, I mean whole ones.  That she would eat in one day.  The only time she ever got sick was when one or two things happened.  The first was due to a commercial.  McDonald’s at one time has a western omelet biscuit.  Whenever my wife would see that commercial, she would have to run to the bathroom to lose all her watermelon.  The second was onions.  My wife loves onions.  Always have, but apparently our gestating baby growing in her belly didn’t because any time she had onions?  Well, she would lose all her watermelon.  This once happened in a parking  lot after going out to eat one night.

When the time finally came for our baby to arrive, we were both not ready.  I had been sick and in the hospital for two days and my wife had the flu.  But we were in bed, and she kept sitting up all though the night.  I asked if she was ok, and she said yes, but she had indigestion.  She had indigestion alright.  The kind that spells KID.  I finally asked her if she was in labor and she said I don’t know.  It wasn’t long before she admitted that yes, she thought she was.  Of course, those who have had children will say you know when you are in labor, but again, remember my wife does nothing normal like.  In the morning, we went to the doctor and they clarified that she was indeed in labor.  Then they did the strangest thing.  They sent us HOME.  I was clearly in shock.  My wife was about to have a BABY.  Why should we go home?  They said we had plenty of time, to time the contractions, and when they reached a certain point, to go to the hospital.  So we sat at home.  All day long.  At the end of the day (by that I mean close to 5 PM), we called her doctor’s office back and they were like, “What?  You are still at home?  Why?  Come to the hospital! You’re having a baby for gosh shakes!”.  I won’t repeat my response to that.  So I bundled up my pregnant wife and off we went to the hospital.

Once there, a flurry of activity started.  Before we knew it, she was in a maternity bed with nurses surrounding her.  Since her water hadn’t broken, that had to be done manually, as well as giving her something to get the contractions moving.  Now the thing is, one of the things they tell you when having a baby is to have warm thick socks.  Because your feet are going to get cold because after all, you are going to be half naked with a bunch of strangers looking at your privates.  When they break your water, they curl you in a ball, and jam something up inside you, which let me tell you does NOT seem right, which promptly soaked her warm socks.  So now I had a hormonal and slightly scared pregnant woman with cold feet.  Let me just say that was a scary moment.  My wife has cute little feet, but she hates her toes.  Now those toes were exposed and she was NOT happy.  Plus her feet were cold, at least until she got her epidural, or as my wife calls it, “A Blessing From Heaven”.

BUT first, they gave her something to help take the edge off until they could arrange for the epidural.  She, being who she is, had a strange reaction.  Although not in pain, when they started an IV, she started to cry.  I was, of course, concerned, until she looked at me and said, “I don’t know why I’m crying, it didn’t even hurt”.  I’m thinking she was crying at the sight of my face.

Eventually, she got the epidural, and all was right with the world.  Not that she would have known, since she promptly did what most people with a sleep condition do.  She slept through long periods of her labor.  Oh, before I forget, she had a LOOONG labor.  Not only did it start in the middle of the night, but had lasted all through the day and was now well into dark.  They gave her that drug to speed up her contractions, and of course, you guessed it, she had a reaction to THAT as well.  So they had to slow it down.  Eventually, my wife decided to wake up and get this show on the road and deliver a baby.  The trouble was, she hated the doctor that was on call that night.  I mean REALLY hated him. Her regular baby doctor is a very well known German baby doctor.  In fact, if you have ready any of the Kay Scarpetta books by Patricia Cornwell, then you would have recognized her since one of the characters in the book was based on this doctor.  It just so happenes that she was, that very night, ready to fly to the Caribbean.    But she was at the hospital, heard my wife was in labor and stuck her head in the door with a smile and said “how are you doing?”.  I’m not sure exactly what it was my wife said that caused the good doc to change her plans but before we knew it, she was “scrubbed in” and took charge.  She was giving everyone orders, even me.  I’m not ashamed to admit it but I was jumping to do her bidding as much as everyone else. 

While my wife was doing her part, as in pushing, there was a nurse there who kept rubbing her leg and giving my wife encouragement.  For some reason, having a numb leg rubbed really irritated my wife.  Most husbands have to endure abuse when their lady is giving birth.  I got lucky, because my wife decided to take it all out on the nurse rubbing her leg, instead of blaming her current predicament on me.  I was almost sad by this, because I had planned on telling her that if she hadn’t slept naked and held a gun to my head during our clandestine meeting, she wouldn’t BE in this predicament.  But I never got the chance.  Instead, I got to hear my sweet little wife tell a nice nurse “if you touch my leg again, I’m going to hit you”.

It wasn’t long before the miracle of our daughter graced the world with her presence.   I know I’m her father and all, but I swear, she was most beautiful baby in the world.

So that is how my wife did the very un-normal method of delivery.  Most men have to rush around because they can’t think while their wives take control, go to the hospital, faint at the sight of a baby coming out of their wife, get blamed for the whole thing, then bask in proud fatherhood.  I got the last part down, but the rest?  Well, it was interesting to say the least.

Funny thing though, we never did get hazard pay for our overseas assignments.  But I guess a beautiful wife giving you a beautiful daughter is payment enough.  It certainly was for me.

New Year, Odd Dreams, and an Alarm Clock

So I started my New Year off with weird dreams and waking up early.  I wish I could blame it all on going on a binge and drinking way to much last night.  Unfortunately, I can’t.  I had one, count ‘em one, glass of really nasty champagne.  Maybe I only had one, because it was really bad.  Like so bad it could have passed for cough syrup.  So bad it could have been used for an engine cleaner, but would probably dissolve it.  So bad that paint thinner asked it how to be as harsh as it.  What do you expect for $ 2.00?  Certainly not having your stomach lining eaten away.  Ah well.

Like I said, I had weird dreams last night.  I can’t really remember them now, which is actually to bad.  Because they were weird as in funny.  Sharing them might give you a closer look into my strange mind than I want, but hey, them’s the breaks.

I can tell you that there were fast cars in there.  Some lions, a pet monkey (due to a post on twitter last night I’m guessing), a homeless tooth fairy, and some clowns.  And a lot of kitchen utensils.  Sounds more like one of my wife’s Narcoleptic dream worlds, but let me tell you this kind of thing isn’t normal for me.  The few times it has happened, I always wake up the next day feeling a little off kilter.  Like a meteor is about to crash into my front yard or something.

As for waking up, not only was it due to my weird dreams, but also thanks to my daughter.  Was it because my loving daughter decided to come in, bounce on the bed like when she was younger and tell me she loved me?  Nope.  Was it because she was up earlier than me, being inconsiderate as only an 18 year old vain girl can be in the bathroom?  Nope.

What was it then?

Her alarm clock.

My daughter takes a little after my wife in some ways.  Mainly, she hates to wake up.  So my daughter is a snoozer.  You know, one of those people who set the alarm, then hit the snooze button a time or two?  Hey, I do that myself.  What I DON’T do, is hit the stupid thing for two hours, like my daughter does.  I think she is getting me back for all the times I went into her room and bounced on HER bed and told her I love her, acting like a big dog, barking and all that.  Which is annoying, I know.  But being annoying to your children is a God given right.  A necessity even.

So, thus begins a New Year and a New Decade.  Weird dreams and an annoying alarm clock.  Three cheers to coffee, yes?

Utter Poetry - Can a human head spontaneously explode?

Sometimes, just sometimes, you run across someone on a rant that ends up to be so utterly amazing, it falls into the catagory of poetry.

Case in point.  My Lovely Wife, who happens to be much younger than me.  Because I am a stud muffin.  You can find her original post over at Refusing To Age Gracefully

Take a look around, though the link goes directly to her original post, despite the fact I am copying it here.  She  is a funny woman.  Being with me, she would have to have sense of humor, trust me on this fact.  She will also tell you those pin-up girls aren't her.  While they might not be, she could pull it off.  I just haven't found the right bribe (and that includes large quantities of chocolate) to get her to dress like that.  Won't stop me from trying though.

I won't even bother to go into how I felt about this situation.  Needless to say, it's hard to put seeing red and contemplating explosions and firearms, and torture devices into words.  I will say, that I wasn't totally aware of the entire situation, since not only is my wife much younger, prettier, and funnier than I am, she is also a lot smarter.  She knew I would likely lose control of myself and destroy things.  Like people, small animals, cars, and the invincible Chuck Norris.  Even if I had to Put On A Costume of The Burger King  If you have trouble understanding who Kitty Princess is, because I know you aren't as smart as me, it's our daughter.

So without further comment from the peanut gallery (me), here is a copy of her post.

Can a Human Head Spontaneously Combust?

Okay so there are a few reasons I've been MIA.  One of course is the emotional roller coaster my darling, sweet, precious, oh so blinded by love little girl has had me riding since Christmas Eve.  Since I'm not too sure I can still form coherent thoughts, (lack of good sleep, exhaustion, cleaning for upcoming visit, etc.) I'll just make this easy.

Dec. 23

• Kitty Princess texts me to tell me the bf proposed.
• I inquire about a ring to find there isn't one.
• When will there be one?  Maybe spring.
• What did he get her?
• Nothing.
• Kitty Princess texts me to say "hope you didn't tell anyone, it's not happening"
• I say ummm WTF?
• She says she'll explain when she gets home.
• She gets home and it's "on" again.  Everything is fine.
• Mama Kitty asks very few questions since head is in danger of imminent explosion.
• We all go night night.

Dec. 24

• Christmas Eve!  Yay!
• Kitty Princess wants to know what time bf should come over.
• Kitty Princess is working til 7.
• I tell Kitty Princess not a good idea.  She just saw him and Grumama will be all nervous.
• Kitty Princess agrees and we have a lovely dinner and gift exchange with grandparents.
• Come home and Kitty Princess gets on the phone with bf.
• Boyfriend tells her his best friend's parents are getting him and best friend a job in California at a pharmaceutical company.
• Mama Kitty is happy.
• Then Mama Kitty finds out he wants her to go with him.
• Kitty Princess and bf fight.  A lot.
• Kitty Princess is crying.
• Hysterically.
• Boyfriend is going to break up with her.  Engagement is off.
• Mama Kitty is happy.  Bad Mama Kitty.
• Mama Kitty explains that bf is an ass.  Tells Kitty Princess that even God couldn't get a job at a pharmaceutical company since God doesn't have a four year degree.
• Sometime in the wee hours of the morning (after ruining Christmas Eve) bf decides he still loves her and they don't have to go to California.
• Mama Kitty is not happy again.
• We all go night night.

Dec. 25

• Christmas Day!  Yay!
• Kitty Princess wants to know when she can see boyfriend.
• Fight ensues when she's told that paternal grandparents are coming over and then we have to go to their house for dinner.  No time for bf to come over.
• Kitty Princess pouts.
• Mama Kitty is happy, not about pouting about no bf on Christmas.
• Enjoy Christmas, opening gifts from in-laws, go to dinner to have repeat of sad from niece who is told SHE can't go home with her bf because it's snowing like a bitch and she has to work the next day and boyfriend lives a zillion miles away.
• Decide all females under the age of 25 are systematically insane.
• Come home and Kitty Princess talks to bf rest of night.
• Boyfriend gets mad at her over World of Warcraft and another fight ensues.
• Mama Kitty is tired of the fighting by 1:00 a.m. and leaves the Kitty Princess to go to bed.

Dec. 26

• Kitty Princess works til 9:30
• Kitty Princess gets off work and bf asks where she's been since he KNOWS that her employer closes at 6 p.m. on Sundays.
• Mama Kitty is shellshocked that Kitty Princess didn't go the hell off on bf.
• Apparently bf's best friend worked for two months at GameStop and knows everything there is to know about their practices including holiday hours, amazing since he never worked a holiday hour in his life.
• Mama Kitty isn't asking any more freaking questions cuz her head is going to explode.

Dec. 27

• Kitty Princess has day off.  Spends day on phone with bf playing World of Warcraft.
• Mama Kitty wanted to make cookies and watch movies.
• Other stuff happened that made Mama Kitty not happy.
• Mama Kitty went to bed with monster headache and the very real desire to give the hell up.

Dec. 28

• Blogging is safe.  Mama Kitty shall return to blogging where she can rant and rave and sound like a lunatic about the horrors of bf and having an intelligent, beautiful daughter who is blinded by the thought that love is possible with a good for nothing, worthless, horrible person who doesn't even buy her a gift for Christmas.

And there you have it.  Is it any wonder I can't put more than two words to paper without feeling like my head is going to explode and checking the house to pinpoint the location of every available pointed or sharpened object I own?  Ladies and gentleman, gather round and pray with me that THIS

never, ever, ever, ever, ever happens.  Please and thank you.
***********End of Post***********

And there you have it.  Poetic, if I do say so myself.  Now I'm off to scan for pin-ups to see if she has something to match it, just to try an convince her to put it on.  No doubt, she will tell me she has a headache.  In this case?  Who could blame her?



I’m a terrific PokeCat Trainer, just ask my wife.

One of the great things about having pets is the various things they do that make you laugh.  Dogs are good for a few laughs, but cats?  Now cats are a laugh a minute.  For no other reason than when they mess up, they try to act like “that just did not happen, you saw nothing, in fact pics or it DIDN’T happen”.  Cats have certainly cornered the market in arrogance.  Much like my 18 year old daughter.

I might have mentioned this before, but my wife collects things.  Mostly cats.  Live ones.  I’m convinced that she purchased a cat caller that was built by the US Military on eBay and is using it every morning, because every time I turn around there is a new cat at our house.  Seriously people, I can’t keep up with all the names.  I usually try to ignore them, but when they pester me, I usually degenerate into calling them names like “you!” or “Dumb Cat”, or the really inventive “Fur-Ball!”  Now, my cat name memory may be faulty, but it just might have something to do with the fact that my wife insists on adding the word butt to the end of every cats name.  She not only has a fascination with cats, but apparently their furry butts as well.  But we won’t get into that right now.

The trouble with having so many cats that come in from time to time is that, like any arrogant animal, it will insist in getting all up in the middle of everything  you are doing.  Like cooking.  And eating.  Shooing them away doesn’t work.  Spraying them with the water hose on the sink works well, at least so I hear.  I admit to nothing because my wife will surely read this post.

It’s a pretty common occurrence to hear her in the kitchen cooking, where she obviously belongs by the way (man Imma pay for THAT comment let me tell you) and hear her raising her voice at the cats who insist on whatever food she is cooking they have a right to and climb all over the counter when she is trying to get ready to cook.  Me?  I just slap… I mean gently pick them up and put them on the floor.

Well, the other night we were watching TV and just so happened to be eating in front of it while our daughter was out.  The cats, knowing better than to come my way, were all over the couch, surrounding my wife and quite obviously acting like the Mob and saying “hand over the food and no one gets hurt”.  After hearing her say “No (insert cats name) butt, NO!) about 1000 times, I got rather annoyed.  After all, I was trying to watch TV.

About this time, what I thought to be a rather brilliant idea hit me and at once acted on it.  It is a variation of the Pokemon training for those in the know.  I stood up, stomping my feat in the “all felines prepare to be killed by Godzilla” dance.  It went something like this:

A group of wild hungry cats appear!

I use Cat Dance!

It’s supper effective!

Problem was, it was a little to effective.  Next thing I know, cats are literally flying all over the place from my frightful Godzilla impression.  They were in the kitchen.  They were in the hall.  Both have slick floors.  Things were getting knocked over left and right.  The sound?  Like a group of angry teen girls having their makeup taken away.  And their cell phones.

I, of course, laughed and said “Oh my God did you see that?” as I turned to look at my beautiful wife, only to find she had been replaced by an evil demon.  Being the smart man I am, I ran for cover, under the kitchen table, where I stayed for 3 hours while she picked up the pieces.

So although I made mommy kitty annoyed with me, my PokeCat Training exercise was a total success.  Now, every time I walk in a room where they are, they go running, only to repeat the whole sliding and scrambling thing all over again.

So, here is to me, who could give all those Pokemon trainers lessons, provided mommy kitty wifey poo doesn’t kill me first.