Double Nickels

The Coach has a birthday today, so I’ll try not speak about myself because it’s all about my special guy today.

*realizes this can not easily happen*

Really, though, where would he be without me? If not for me, he probably would have ended up with someone even MORE high maintenance or a psychopath or worse yet, a HIGH MAINTENANCE PSYCHOPATH. We all know one…

He.is.so.lucky.

How stinking cute? I wish he still had this outfit; I know he’d look hawwwt in it.

We met when I was just about to turn 18 and he was 19 going on 20; I didn’t have much of a choice to love him after he netted me; this is what Tinder looked like in 1985.

It was a few weeks later when I realized that he was a chippendale dancer; that explained why he always had a nice amount of cash. Hey, I’m NO dummy!

Please note, even though he always had money in his pocket, he decided to NOT waste any of that money on shirts; to this day, he’s still a wise spender.

Way back in 1985, seeing/hearing him talk on the phone for a considerable amount of time should have been my warning: this guy likes to talk. And he’s still on the phone quite a bit, minus the cord.

All kidding aside. I won the lottery by going on that blind date in 1985; he’s the best of the best. An amazing husband to me, (who is NOT a psychopath) a wonderful father to our girls, a dedicated mentor to countless young ladies that he’s coached over the years, and a trusted/loving friend to many.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if the world were full of men like Coach with his heart, his integrity, there would be world peace.

BTW: He always wears a shirt now, and they’re generally pretty expensive. Go figure.

Happy birthday to my main squeeze.

XOXO

Thank You Baby Jesus and Sajib. Also, I’m Doing My First Poll & It’s Not Even The Dance Type.

Poll, Pole? I suppose, there is a difference.


You guys, you almost lost me and I’d hate to think how that might affect your lives.

I kid. But, not really. I was at my wits end and almost scrapped it all, flushed it down the drain, threw it out with the garbage, tossed it into my past. My blog that is.

After much going back and forth with the WordPress people and me completely screwing up my blog trying to fix it, my newest favorite person Sajib, saved the day. Please note his job title:

Where do you go to get a degree in happiness engineering? Sign.me.up.

I’m back in the business of not making money.

I am NEVER ever moving my blog again. NEVER.


Even the best of friends can disagree

A little backstory: My girlfriend Kelly and I are in general, twins, soul sisters. We have the same outlook on life, politics, life in general. We laugh at the same things. We enjoy the same movies/TV. We eat the same way; we can almost always split a meal because we enjoy the exact same foods. We enjoy the exact same wine. We tend to wear the same type of clothing, although, she’s a skinny Minnie and I am not any longer considered a skinny anything. We’ve showed up places wearing almost the same clothing more times than I can count over the last 30 years.

Kelly and Don have been integral with setting up the mountain house; Don hung all the TV’s, helped Coach set up wifi, Sonos, cameras, etc…Kelly is my decorator du jour because we essentially have the same taste. To be clear, we essentially have the same excellent taste, just ask us.

BUT, one thing we did not agree with was the fact that she thought I needed and iron and ironing board for the mountain house. I don’t think anyone will ever use it. I have not pulled out my ironing board in a few years. I do have a steamer, but even that hasn’t seen the light of day in at least 10 months.

Some of my favorite people do polls on their blog (Ally Bean & Kari) and I really enjoy them. Well, Kari had one regarding farts this past week, so, it’s a *crapshoot* regarding the topic.

*I made myself LOL

So, I’m getting on the poll board. Please share your thoughts so I can tell Kelly she’s a lunatic.

And speaking of irons, because who doesn’t

My Mom was a waitress most of her life and her polyester uniforms always needed to be ironed. She (or I) generally ironed them in our kitchen area on an ironing board. BUT, sometimes, she ironed them in her bedroom. On.her.bed.

This one time (not at band camp) she forgot to turn off the iron. Mom, Mark and I were out and when we returned to our apartment, it was smoky and smelly as hell. Way worse than Kari’s farts. I still remember the firemen dragging the mattress down our carpeted stairs and out the front door. Burnt fibers from the bed and our melted green carpet everywhere. Ummm.., have you ever smelled burnt rubber? Pretty damn bad. When I went to school the next day, everyone asked me why I smelled so weird; as if 7th grade could have been any worse. We couldn’t sleep in our apartment for many nights and all clothing and linens inside had to be laundered. My Mom was horrified at what had happened. *sigh*

To wrap this up:

My blog is working properly.

Even soul sisters can find something to disagree about.

I’ve added my first poll and I need to know your thoughts.

Don’t iron on your bed. Or, just don’t iron.