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Well, it’s been a crazy couple weeks at The Hubby Diaries household. 

New cars…. oral surgery, a Superbowl….. and some other things that I can’t blog about just yet…..    Sorry for disappearing but sometime life just gets in the way of blog time! 

So, to bring you slightly up-to-speed, I thought I’d share the events of last weekend.

 

I’ve mentioned before that hubby is a Giants fan…. we even own season tickets.

 

I’ve also mentioned that hubby, like many absurd football fans, likes to uphold certain rituals or superstitions when it comes to watching his Boys in Blue.

 

Well, as you likely know, the Giants won the Superbowl this past weekend.   The hooting & hollering at my house were something to behold BUT, the story here is not about the game itself but rather the ritual surrounding the game and game(s) leading up until the Superbowl.  If you recall, I mentioned that hubby feels the need to envelope himself in superstition when it comes to watching football.   In case you’re wondering, the new grill we bought for tailgating this season is still sitting unopened, in our garage.

 

So ever since the play offs started, we needed to employ new rituals.  The development of these rituals was originally unbeknownst to me but somehow, someway, I got pulled into the madness.

 

You see, when the Giants played in their first play off game this season we had a “normal” Sunday and hubby came home to plant himself in front of the tv, in the Man Cave, to cheer on his boys.   From my perspective nothing special happened this day.  From hubby’s perspective… at least after the game ended with a Giants win…  we had set the precedent for all activity that must occur to ensure we have paid our dues to the superstition God’s of Football, so that the Giants would continue to play well.

 

Apparently now…….

 

There was an outfit that must be worn

There was a place where hubby had to sit

There was a specific beer glass hubby needed to drink from

There was the pre-game, video game that must be played

He must only speak to certain people

He must watch the game by himself

 

And……(this is the part I hadn’t bargained for…………..)

 

There was a place we needed to eat lunch the day of the game

There were specific menu items that needed to be ordered at said lunch, on the day of the game.

 

Now, I was blindly unaware of these details on this the first weekend.  So, on the 2nd play off weekend when hubby declared.  “Well, we’re gonna have to go to Panera for lunch today”.   I innocently asked “Why?” 

 

And then apparently I needed to be schooled on the necessary ritual that had to occur, each and every time the Giants played this year, so as not upset the Football Gods.  And so, we went to Panera.  I dutifully ordered the same meal and then, when we returned home,  I watched hubby meticulously set up his viewing area with more attention that I’d ever seen him give to any area of our home.  (I only wish he could use the same attention to detail to say, clean the bathroom…..)  And then viola  the Giants won again.  This of course only solidified hubby’s insanity.

 

So, on Superbowl Sunday, I can’t say I was surprised when I found myself at Panera, eating tomato soup and 1/2 a sandwich, as we set the wheels in motion for the Giants to win. 

 

All I have to say is….. You’re welcome Giants fans.    It’s beyond obvious to me that hubby now has the power to influence the outcome of the game from his couch.   Now if only I could figure out a way to harness this power for other vastly more  important things…………

 

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Hubby ordered sausage & pepper pizza 2 nights ago.

 

Now for a normal person, this wouldn’t be worth blogging about BUT since it was hubby and it goes against virtually everything he believes in, I had to put it out there into the blogosphere to try to solicit some sympathy.  Because, for my life, I cannot figure this man out.

 

If you don’t understand why this would matter, you should read this post:  You’re Gonna Ruin It.

 

It’s in that post where I first shared hubby’s aversion to “contaminating” his cheese pizza with anything but cheese.   This has been an on-going battle since the day I met hubby.  I like toppings on my pizza and he doesn’t.   As I mentioned in that last post, we haven’t been able to find a happy medium without ordering separate pizzas, because the minute I add any toppings to half the pizza, I have “ruined his plain cheese half with flavor & smells from my toppings”.  And, my dear blog readers, apparently this is just plain unacceptable!

 

BUT… just when you think you have him figured out, he likes to change things up on you.

 

So, we’re out to dinner with friends and he decides he wants a pizza.  The waiter comes over and he orders just that… a cheese pizza.  Then the waiter starts prodding him.  “Just cheese??” he says.   To which I reply, “He won’t eat anything but plain cheese….. everything else ruins his pizza!”  But the waiter isn’t letting this one pass, he says “wouldn’t you want some peppers, or maybe some onions, or how about some sausage?”.   And hubby looks at him, as if he’s contemplating these offerings.  I, on the other hand, am steadfast in my opinion of his pizza order.  I KNOW that hubby won’t contaminate his pizza.  I’ve had to have this debate for the last 10 years.  It always ends the same way…. nothing but cheese.

 

But hubby seems to waver.

 

The waiter presses on….. “We make a fantastic sausage & pepper pizza”.   Our friends join in… “They do make a great sausage & pepper pizza”.   I chime in… “What’s going on with you?  Are you about to be pressured into pizza with toppings????  You and I have argued this very topic for years and if you change you mind, right here, right now….. I may just have to kill you.”   

 

“OK” he says…. “sausage & peppers it is!”.   And then, I fainted, fell out of my chair, and they had to rush me to the hospital.     Did MY husband just order toppings on his pizza?  It couldn’t be?  We’ve discussed this ad nauseum,  I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded.  I’ve rationalized with him about the fact that separately, he likes sausage and he likes peppers.  All to no avail.  I must always eat just plain cheese unless I want to get my own personal pizza.  And now, here we are, and he’s succumbing to peer pressure at the restaurant.  WHERE WAS THIS WAITER 10 YEARS AGO???????????????

 

After he orders, again, I have to say to him… “Are you sure?  What’s going on with you?  Did you just cave in and order something you don’t really want?  Cause, we can still change this and put the universe back on it’s axis!”.   And, he looks at me and smugly replies…. “Nope, I’m totally happy.  I want sausage & peppers”.    And that moment folks, was when I realized that I wanted smack him right upside the head.    But instead, I gave him the reply that always seems to follow any ridiculous or impossible to understand behavior…….  “You know, you really are EXHAUSTING…………”

 

Now, I have no idea if this was an isolated incident (likely).  And, I’m having trouble celebrating that he’s finally opened his eyes to a new form of pizza since it was only once (probably).   And beyond all of that, sometimes I wonder if he chooses to be difficult just to test me……. and now, after 10 years of toying with me, he’s deemed it time to shake things up a bit.    And everyone wonders why I started a blog…………………………………

 

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Every year hubby lugs down Christmas bin after Christmas bin to decorate for the holiday.. then he surreptitiously dumps them all over the house.

 

For the next few days I navigate my way around our house like a mine field.  I squeeze through the hallway upstairs, I step over crap at the bottom of the stairs and I slide heavy items out of the way so I can pass.  And then… almost like clockwork, hubby disappears to go to a Giants game.  And miraculously, when he returns, our home looks like Christmas.   Now, don’t get me wrong, I like to decorate for the holiday and I don’t necessarily *need* hubby’s participation in choosing which shelf gets Sniffles the snowman, or where to put the tree in the North Pole Village BUT, hubby does *need* to be involved in some things.

 

I do not touch hubby’s army of nutcrackers.  If you recall from last year, these soldiers are meticulously assembled on their battle line each holiday season.  And I never, ever, take on this decorating task.  The nutcracker bin may well sit in the dining room for another week after the rest of the house is completely decorated anxiously awaiting hubby’s assembling of the army (which apparently must be done “on it’s own time” and “cannot be rushed”).

 

The other key element that I never do alone is our tree. 

 

I’ve spoken about the importance of selecting the right tree in the past.  And, I’ve outlined how fun, merry, exciting, magical,  errr… uhmmm.. thorough our shopping excursions can be to find the perfect tree.  But what I haven’t written about is the details of our tree.

 

Let’s start with the lights…. which are a never-ending battle at my house (hmmmm… perhaps I should have enlisted my own army!)  I have a preference for white lights on our Christmas tree and hubby has a preference for colored lights.  I always win  (just as any wife should!).  And we have white lights on the tree.   Now, in all actuality, I owned a home before I met hubby and I already had a TON of Christmas stuff, including many boxes of white lights… so, it’s almost as if the choice was already made and we just continued down this path. BUT, it doesn’t stop hubby from wishing, whining, pouting each year as he strings on the white lights.  He says things like:

“Know what would make this tree look even better?”……………..”colored lights”

“Know what would make my Christmas truly magical?” …………….”colored lights”

“Know what makes fantastic Christmas trees look less fantastic?” ……………”white lights”

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.

 

Anyhow, a very long, and somewhat unrelated story but….. we hit the lottery this year and decided to buy new LED lights to decorate the outside of our house. — OK – before you get all excited for us — we didn’t actually win the lottery, but you really need to, in order to afford LED lights…. Holy Crap… what are they made of GOLD??!!  ($30 friggin dollars for a dang string of lights – WTH?!)  Ok, I’m getting way off topic here.  Back to my tree.

 

The long story resulted in us “stealing” some of our “inside” lights for outside and left us with white LED lights to put on our Christmas tree.  (And now you can see the tree from outerspace and you need to wear sunglasses in our house…. but hey, we’re saving energy!!).  And hubby, like every year (while he was fascinated by the bright lights - as every man would be…..) still pouted about not having colored lights on his tree.    

 

And then, to make matters worse…… come the bows.

 

I always finish our tree with small burgundy bows.   Hubby hates bows on trees.   I have no idea if perhaps he was attacked by a roll of fabric when he was younger, or maybe his mom gave everyone in the family gifts with bows while hubby got  coal for Christmas, but he is horribly prejudiced against pretty bows.  This is another tree decorating battle that I generally win (just as any wife should).  And hubby, once again, always pouts.

“Know what would make this tree look even better?” ………”colored lights and NO bows”

“Know what would make my Christmas truly magical?” ……….”colored lights and NO bows”

“Know what makes fantastic Christmas trees look less fantastic…… “white lights and ugly bows”

I have no idea why hubby could give a crap about every-single other decorating conversation I force him to have the other 364 days of the year.  And then all of a sudden he’s an authority on the “perfectly” decorated Christmas tree.

 

And that my dear friends….. is how I ruin Christmas, each and every year, for my dear hubby.

 

(now, if you can keep it a secret……  next year, I may just let hubby have free reign over the tree but it’s taken me years to mentally prepare myself for what sort of tree we might wind up with!)

 

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Ahhhh  superstition…….

 

It’s what keeps us from walking under ladders (probably a good practice – and this is coming from someone who did just this and had a hammer dropped on her head when she was young!).  – No comments from the peanut gallery please…..

 

It’s what keeps us knocking on wood.

 

It’s what keeps us from opening umbrellas indoors.

 

It’s what keeps dancing hamsters on top of TVs

 

It’s what keeps people cooking on broken grills.

 

It’s what keeps us taking HUGE breaths to blow out birthday candles.

 

WAIT…… WHAT????

 

Oh right, I probably lost you up there somewhere between umbrellas and birthday cakes.

 

That’s because THOSE superstitions are what keep my hubby up at night.

 

 

Please let me explain…………..

 Here’s a conversation from earlier this week.

 

Hubby:  “That was a crazy GIANTS game!”

Me:  “It sure was.  I almost can’t believe they pulled off that win”  not really caring all that much……

Hubby:  “I’m glad I wasn’t at the stadium to watch that mess”

Me:  “Yeah, I suppose a trip to Cabo was a good excuse to miss a game” 

Me:  “Speaking of Giants games.  Have you guys been using the new grill for tailgating?”

Hubby:  “Actually no.”

Me:  “But why not, I thought you said the old one was broken?”

Hubby:  “It is.  But somebody’s brother’s, friend’s, girlfriend’s, uncle happened to have a spare top for the Exact. Same. Grill!  How cool is that??!!”

Me:  “I’m sure it’s cool.  But, didn’t we buy a new portable grill just this summer to replace your broken grill?”

Hubby:  “Yes, we did.  It’s in the garage”

Me:  “In the garage….????”

Hubby: “Yep, in the garage.  It’s actually still in the box.”  he so matter-of-factly states…….

Me: “I don’t get it”.  it’s not all that uncommon that hubby and I are speaking different languages……. “Why wouldn’t you be using a brand new grill?  Isn’t it even better than the one you’ve been using the past few years?”

Hubby:  “Yes, it’s better.. and even slightly larger.”

Me: “Uhmmmm, ok.  So then, why wouldn’t you be using it?”

Hubby:  “Superstition.   We’ve thought it over, and we simply can’t change the grill that we’ve been using for years”

 

And there you have it.

 

Apparently if hubby were to change grills for the football season, it would send a destructive and otherwise irreparable message to the Football Gods of Superstition, and the Giants would obviously have a horrible season.  (I surmise that hubby may have already messed up some other superstition since the Giants have, in fact, been squeezing out some very  ‘messy’ wins this season without any interference at all from grill alterations……. but hey, that’s just me.)

 

Just so you have a visual understanding of how a superstitious tailgating set up might appear, I thought I’d share an image of the exact layout that occurs to ensure that the Giants performance is not impacted by hubby or his friends.

 

 

 

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It may not surprise you that hubby is a big fan of Halloween.   Not necessarily the type of Halloween fan that I’d prefer –  the kind that starts thinking about cool, goofy and elaborate costumes weeks before the holiday (my dear hubby would need to have his life threatened to ever think about putting on a Halloween costume).  So you may be wondering, if he hates the dressing up part of Halloween, what part does he actually like?

 

If you’ve been a long time reader, you probably have your hand up in the air… screaming ooooh… ooooh – pick me, pick me!  So, we’ll just pretend I can hear you.   YES!  the part of Halloween he likes are the TREATS.  You see, hubby has an incredible sweet tooth and he sure does love his candies.

 

If you remember my Halloween post from 2 years ago, you may recall that I waited until Halloween week to buy any candy for trick-or-treaters.  This was a well thought out plan on my part to ensure that there was actually candy in the cupboard when I opened it on Oct 31st.  It was the only way to make sure hubby didn’t get his grubby, sticky little paws all over the treats before the holiday.   You may also recall that he can consume just about any snack at the speed of light and, unless I can sneak away a piece or two, I may not actually get any at all.

 

While some of you may remember all of this, apparently I have selective memory, or I had a momentary lapse of sanity or just possibly, I have just lost my mind over the past month because…….. while I was shopping at Costco last month I came across a bulk bag of Halloween candy.  The perfect mix of items that we both like so I thought to myself. “Self, you should buy this bag…. it will make your life easier, you won’t have to shop later, and you can cross Halloween candy shopping off your ‘To Do’ list”.  But, what I neglected to consider was The Hubby Factor.

 

This is the bag I purchased…… 125 PIECES!!!!

 

 

So after the bag sat in the cabinet for about a week or so, I went to grab a piece… and, lo and behold… there were 3 whoppers left.  Can you guess which was hubby’s preferred item in bag?

 

There are still about 3 weeks left until Halloween……….

 

A few days later and I go for a snack and the bag is shockingly light…. more than half the Reese’s are gone.

 

There are still over 2 weeks left until Halloween……….

 

That weekend I feel like a piece of candy and wind up getting the last Reese’s (hubby was probably worried about taking the last one so he had moved onto the Hershey bars… about half of them are gone)

 

There are still about 2 weeks left until Halloween………

 

I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to hear that the week before Halloween the only candy that’s left is the Hershey’s with almonds… and this is only because hubby doesn’t like his chocolate “ruined” with nuts (much like his contaminated pizza!)

 

Needless to say, Halloween was almost upon us and, rather than having one less thing to shop for, I’m now without any candy at all.    You’d think after 9 years of living with hubby I would have known better than to buy candy so early (or I would have been smart enough to hide half of the bag) but sometimes, my brain just doesn’t work properly…. either that or hubby has started putting something in my coffee in the morning that gives him the ability to control my thoughts…………

 

Hmmmmmmmmmm…… maybe I’m on to something here……………….

 

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Well, hubby has been living a forced bachelor week ….. AGAIN… as my job tries to lead me towards a slow and painful death!

This is still me…..

And yes, I am waving the white flag since I can’t possibly keep up.  

 

The post Labor Day “back-to-school” traffic has hit the NJ Parkway and when you add in continued rain, flooding and moronic drivers, I have been starting my day with 2+ hour commutes to my office (as hubby happily continues his 6 minute commute  - BASTARD … uhm, ahhhh, I mean, I love you hubby!).  And, one day this week, I was actually at my office until 11:00pm.  Like I mentioned earlier… a slow and painful experience that has left hubby to fend for himself a few nights this week.

 

Rest assured that when I finally do make it home, I’m happy to listen to hubby’s daily challenges.   So, in order to tide you over until I can write a true post, I’ll leave you with this horrible, overwhelming, stressful , ridiculous challenge that hubby had to deal with just last night.

 

Hubby’s normal go-to ice cream choice is Neopolitan.  This way he gets a couple of flavors but he doesn’t have to contend with other “stuff” contaminating his ice cream experience.  And, by stuff I mean any sort of item you might normally find in ice cream (cookie dough, chocolate chips, peanut butter, candy etc… etc…).   Remember the pizza contamination …. well, the same rule sort of applies to ice cream.

 

So, you can imagine my amazement as he sat on the couch eating Haagen Dazs  “Caramel Cone”  ice cream.  I can’t imagine what possessed him to step out of his comfort zone but I do applaud his effort.  That is, until I realized that he was trying to smooth it out to be flat after each bite (if this means nothing to you please read THIS post).  It was at this moment that he turned to me and said….

You know,  it’s incredibly difficult to eat ice cream with stuff-in-it to be flat.  I’ve been struggling with it for a while…. each time I take a bite and try to smooth it out to be flat, I hit a piece of cone, so I have to eat more.  Then I try to smooth it again and then I hit more cone.  I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to put this back in the freezer so that it’s completely flat.  It’s completely frustrating me and it’s causing me stress.”

To which I replied (as I gouged my way through my Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream) …. “I can totally feel your pain… I mean, how could anyone imagine handling something so stressful.  How about I help you with your ice cream and you go to work for me tomorrow…..”

 

And somehow, all by himself, he figured out how to solve his problem….. I guess sometimes life is all about perspective……..

 

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