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I’m No Fool

turning 40

Wende almost turning 40 and the man who apparently takes life advice from small cartoon crickets.


IZ: So. Forty! Happy Birthday.

Me: Sigh. Yeah, half way there.

IZ: What? Half? No! More like a third!

Me: A third? Are you crazy? Why would you want to live to be 120?

IZ: Because Jiminy Cricket told me I could.

(and for the record, IZ, it’s 93.  Ooh, busted. IZ just came in my office and said, “Clearly, you didn’t watch the WHOLE video. Ooops.)

I’ll have a post up on turning 40 in a day or so. Today, I’m actually going to just celebrate it! :D

He Could Give Lessons

 

In Step

 

Me: “You know, I don’t think our bedroom is all that girly.”

IZ: “Uh huh. . .”

Me: “In fact, I’d say it’s the most masculine it’s ever been.”

IZ: “Could be.”

Me: “You really are the King of Noncommittal language!”

IZ: “Perhaps.”

Me: “You think?”

IZ: . . . 

 

Seriously, folks, his spidey-sense is telling him this conversation is a trap.  

For The Birds

IZ: You know this colon cleansing stuff is for the birds. Oh, I know what all those woo-woo health people say, but seriously? They  can keep their clean colons. I’ll take mine dirty any day! I’m proud to say that the very first thing I polluted my colon with was McDonald’s!

Me: Is that so?

IZ: Yes! (pumping fist in the air) I’m striking a blow for dirty colons everywhere!

He Said: The Embroiderer Strikes Back

Hey All… I’m letting go of my machine. Our son out-grew it, and I have NO room in my studio. It’s gently used and includes the software! Check it out!

sewingmachinewars.jpg

It’s Saturday and boy do I have news! Sadly, I’m nursing a wee cold and am not feeling up to writing today. I am going to take the weekend off and get some much needed rest. With any luck, I’ll be back on Monday.

In the meantime, IZ has graciously offered some much needed content. As usual, he’s throughly researched his subject and written a witty piece on the search for the perfect Embroidery machine. He thinks because I’m sick I won’t notice his blatant abuse of Star Wars metaphors.

Oh, I noticed bucko!

Anyhow, it’s after the jump. Enjoy. Have a lovely weekend and I’ll see you on Monday if I haven’t expired.

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Signs. . .

Georges Speech.jpg

. . . that you have no life: You leave yet another snarky comment on a 10 year old’s YouTube video about how he tagged his video as “origami” when clearly it isn’t. What, the first few objections weren’t enough?

. . . that you will never have a life: You leave this comment on a 10 year old’s YouTube video–”do u get beaten up at school? u wood at mine”.

. . . that you’re a good dad: You spend the better part of Saturday morning fixing the description that you wrote for your kid’s YouTube video so that the crazies in the world will stop leaving weirdness in the comment section.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Happy Birthday Baby.jpg

Happy Birthday, Baby! I love you to pieces. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

Now, could you please stop telling people that I “robbed the cradle”? Seriously, 4 months, buster, 4 months does not give you that much leverage!

UPDATE: WordPress is having issues with commenting. . . but IZ would like you to know how deeply moved he is by all your comments. He’s kinda swamped at work to respond to them all individually anyhow, but sends a big “shout-out” to all you lovely people. Thank you, thank you.

Pssst

Interested in how I start my day every morning??

coffeegirlmocha.jpg

Yes, that’s right, I start my day with a yummy mocha made by the ever wonderful, IZ. It’s nice to be spoiled. Turns out, my information guru of a husband has been ever so nice and detailed the instructions to this daily marvel over on his blog. He’s completely demystified the process without spoiling any of the allure! Check him out and leave some comment love.

Fair Warning: Just Jack’s Mochas have been known to cause dependence in some people. Please drink responsibly!

Too Much Information (Updated)

(This article was updated 2/2008. For more information please see The Embroiderer Strikes Back.)

The men in my life suffer from TMI syndrome. Ask them a simple question and the gears in their heads begin clicking away and before you know it, they’ve expounded for 20 minutes on the form and substance of white bread. You wanted to know if they would like a sandwich.

This little “tick” of theirs drives me a wee bit batty at times. While I like a good yarn and enjoy telling stories, when I ask a question, I sorta want an answer. Today. God help me if I need to purchase anything more expensive than say, a new sweater. Which, incidentally, is when the penchant for verbosity dries up completely. I say, “So, which one of these sweaters should I get?” I hear, “Um… what? Sweaters? Why are you looking at sweaters?” However, if the object of my affection has any moving parts to it, this much I know: be prepared to be inundated with facts and information. Most of which, I could care less about.

And sometimes, they put this stuff in writing. They won’t shut up. And it’s not enough to point at the thing I want and jump up and down and shout, “That one! I want that one!” Because, even that move will set them off hunting for “more information.” Should you ever wonder when enough is enough… the answer is, NEVER.

I’m not complaining, mind you. Not really. The end result is I tend to get the best there is to offer in my particular price range. No one can claim that the gifts aren’t “well thought out”! But, really… there are moments when the information gathering and expounding is just overkill, and I find myself wondering what it would be like to be deaf. And blind.

In case you were looking to buy a sewing machine and are not blessed with boys who suffer from TMI syndrome in your life… my husband has oh, so, graciously typed up his “findings” for you to peruse. His report, which I might add is exactly the kind of thing Consumer Reports likes to publish, is posted after the jump. If not… Click on the “Read More” link with this warning: I told you it was too much information!

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Bernina, Viking, Pfaff, Oh My! (Updated)

platinum775.jpg

Me: I’ve got nothing. I need something to blog.

IZ just looks at me.

Me: No, seriously, nothing. Say something funny.

IZ rolls his eyes and starts to leave the room.

Me: Oh, come on! Say something funny!

An hour later he sends me an email containing a fully written blog post. It’s like 3 pages long! I was totally kidding him (sorta) but since he went to so much effort, what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t publish it? He says if he keeps giving me blog fodder he should at least get his own category; I keep telling him to get his OWN blog, but does he listen? NO! So, I’ve given in and supplied a category. He isn’t wasting any time in fulfilling his threat promise. As it turns out, it’s the first in an installment of three…he promises to write the other two if there is demand for them.

Without any further introduction, a guest post from IZ. Also known as: How My Husband Totally Spilled the Beans on What He’s Giving Me for My Birthday.
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