Adventures in drinking two glasses of wine alone on a Wednesday night.

1. You will find yourself staring at the computer monitor and thinking, "Oh my God. The letters are SO BIG right now."

2. And then you will laugh at yourself for realizing that it is because you are leaning way forward and your face is three inches from the screen.

3. And then you will feel a mixture of confused and stupid when you realize that, no, it's because you somehow pressed "CTRL +" and really did make the font bigger.

Sheesh.

Good thing Schmoobs comes home tomorrow. I need supervision.

***

Oh, and I might possibly have an interview with a local insurance businessman who is looking for a blogger/web content writer for his growing business. I saw the job listing while scanning Craiglist and sent off an email and resume. He called me literally 20 minutes later.

But, seeing as how I have a phone-phobia (phonebia?) AND I was in the middle of practicing, I let it go to voicemail so that I would have some time to prepare my Professional Phone Voice.

And by that, I mean I needed to do two hours of intensive interweb detective work to make sure that this guy was legit and not, say, a Craigslist serial killer. By the end of the two hours, I was able to find his website(s), business address (which I looked up on Google maps) and Facebook profile. And through stalking his Facebook profile, I was able to find out that he is married (good sign), with four young ginger kids (also a good sign) and that he is a super conservatron with a picture of him and Rick Perry on his Wall (AGH BARF BARF BARF).

So anyway. We'll see how that works out. 

Point of clarification.

Re: my sister's comment on the last post.

Thank Jeebus, no.

Used to be attached to this:

That dismembered bear head is actually her all-time favorite squeaky toy. It's all crusty and disgusting, but she loves it. 

How does one misplace a soup ladle?

I mean, you can literally traverse our entire kitchen area in three steps. And I cannot imagine that there was any need at any point in time, between when I bought the ladle at Target two weeks ago and now, for me to take the ladle outside of the confines of our kitchen for some reason.

SO WHERE THE HELL IS THAT FREAKING LADLE?

Anyway. How has your last few days been? If you're anything like Schmoobles, the answer is: CRAPTASSTICULAR.

Aside from not having a non-working weekend home in a while and having come down with a cold, he had a Wind Ensemble concert on Friday night that had us not getting home and fed until about 11pm. Then he had to get up at 3:30 the next morning to fly to Reno for a - literally - 24 hour trip to California for his sister's wedding in Truckee. Except that he sent me a message from the airport at 4:30am saying that HE COULDN'T FIND HIS DRIVER'S LICENSE. So, about an hour of trying to calm him down and help him through the ordeal via text message later, he was able to get through security by showing the agents his bank card, faculty ID, checkbook, etc. etc. etc. and on to Reno. Then he got to Reno and realized that there was no way he was going to be able to rent a car as planned to get to Truckee for the wedding. So he had to take a $100 cab ride. Awesome. At least the wedding itself was beautiful (I requested many picture texts.) and went off wonderfully. However, he had to be up by 3am again this morning to make his 6am flight back here because the Wind Ensemble has a dress rehearsal at 2pm. And then when he got to his car in the airport parking lot...the battery was dead. Luckily, a family walked by shortly after and was able to help him jump his car. Then it was straight to the rehearsal, which is where he is right now. But do you know what he gets to do tomorrow morning? That's right. Wake up at 4am to go back to the airport and fly to New York with our Wind Ensemble...whom he is conducting in Carnegie Hall! Whee! There's the silver lining. I wish I could go on the trip, but there was just no way to afford it. Plus, I get to have a week of no classes (pre-Spring Break!) so I can do some writing and practicing. I asked Schmoobs the other day what stuff he was looking forward to seeing or doing in NYC once they get there (they have a day and a half of free time after the performance before they head back) and, without hesitation, his answer was, "Sleep."

Poor Schmoobles. But, hey. Conducting in Carnegie Hall! That's pretty FANTASTICULAR!

In other news, I am convinced that anybody who finds it a good idea (me) to prepare a slow cooker meal consisting of chicken, onions, garlic, stewed tomatoes, potatoes, carrots and brussels sprouts on a day when you will be inside your home for essentially the whole day to sit through several hours of increasingly intoxicating heavenly smells has at least some masochistic tendencies.

And finally, BB did this the other day:

My heart exploded and so did Schmoobs' when I sent him the picture. She had found it in her little garbanzo bean brain to dig his scarf out of his suitcase that was sitting on the complete other side of the living room, drag it over to her bed and then lay it on top of her by herself. BB! STOP BEING SO CUTE! I DIE OF HEARTSPLOSIONS!

Snackums.

You know what's not a good idea? Eating three different kinds of delicious creamy poison cheese on the same day that you get your Monthly Confirmation That I Am Indeed Without Child. I feel a little bit like my uterus and entire digestive system are going to fall out of my body cavity or something. But whatever. I'm still able to type this post, right? What doesn't kill you makes you filled with the delightful memory of delectable, smooth cheesy goodness dancing on your poisoned taste buds. Or something like that.

Anyway.

Yesterday was Annual Fourteenth Day of February. I am proud to say that, after six straight failed attempts, Schmoobles and I were successful in completing this Annual Fourteenth Day of February without it being directly followed by two days of the silent treatment and stinging bitter tears, culminating in forgiveness and an airing of grievances which usually contain choice phrases such as "There wasn't even anything special about that day" and "But you said it was stupid and acted so aloof about it the week before" and "I know it's a stupid holiday, but" and "It seemed like you didn't want to do anything" and "You're supposed to make reservations" and other such assorted ridiculousness. But this year, he played hooky in his evening lab in order to bring home flowers and take me to a nice simple dinner. See how easy it is to avoid my wrath at not meeting my aloof-and-disapproving-yet-ever-present-expectations-on-this-most-idiotic-of-all-hallmark-holidays?

The moral of the story, for all Schmoobleses out there, is that, even if your normally wonderful and easy going girlfriend will make a habit of mocking the holiday and rolling her eyes at all the indulgent and pandering commercials leading up to the Annual Fourteenth Day of February, she still wants flowers. Or salted caramels. Or a plate of assorted cheeses. Or a pack of organic bacon. Or a dozen deviled eggs. Mmm...yeah a dozen deviled eggs would have been stellar. (Did I mention that I am on Woman Time?)

Speaking of cheese. We have a new favorite thing here at the Whatevs household: home crafted assortments of delicious hors d'oeuvres, poisony cheeses, crudite, olives, smoked salmon, bread, hummus, nuts, etc. etc. Sometimes accompanied by a glass of wine and enjoyed before dinner. Or during the NFC Championship Game. We call it Snackums. Like, I prepared a couple plates yesterday so that Schmoobs and I could munch on stuff before we went to dinner and when he walked in the door, his first words were "I got you flowers!" and then followed quickly after by "Ooh, SNACKUMS!" And it was so tasty - and I had enough leftovers - that I actually spent the whole day at work just thinking about getting home and making more snackums.

At work this morning:

Ys: "You know what I'm excited about tonight?"
Schmoobs: "What?"
Ys: "More snackums."
Schmoobs: "Snackums!"

 Snackums.

The best part is that, if I make the plates look fancy enough, my brain thinks that I can eat all manner of cheesy goodness without becoming poisoned by it thirty minutes later. And, of course, fancy poison is still poison. But it's always worth it.