It’s All Greek Salad to Me

Kidlet has been off visiting his sister’s and brother’s families since Christmas Day. I was actually able to see him last night at my girlfriend’s home where we all gathered with other friends and their families for a holiday get together. It’s strange not having him around each day. I miss him.

For my hubby, however, it presents an entirely different dilemma than lonesomeness. Steve and I are now responsible for Kidlet’s chores. Dishes, taking out the trash, feeding the dogs, along with miscellaneous tasks that come up.

For my Aspergian husband, it’s all Greek. He doesn’t understand.

“Sweetie, can you run this out to the trash for me?” I ask as I set a large bag of refuse from our Christmas gift unwrapping next to the front door.

“Why should I do that!” thunders Steve. “That’s Kidlet’s chore!”

“Kidlet is gone for a few days, Dear. I really don’t want to leave the trash there until he returns. Do you want me to do it instead? I thought that you were on your way out to the shop right now.”

“I AM!” rages The Hubster. “AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND! You told me to never, ever, ever, ever do Kidlet’s chores for him!”

I take a deep breath instead of the bait.

“Steve, I’ve asked you to let him do his chores when he is here. Right now he is not here. This is a situational rule. I am asking you to please take this out for me since you are going out anyway.”

Hubby harrumphs and grumbles as I walk away to go start laundry. A bit later I walked towards the livingroom and see the bag still sitting by the front door. I decided to say nothing about it.

Since I get up so early, usually around 4:30 a.m., I will often take a midday nap. A siesta if you please; a common, ordinary event in many parts of the world. It hurts no one and helps me stay up until 9:00 or so.

Due to the feasting of the last couple of days, we both grazed through leftovers for lunch and he watched a bit of the tube. I asked Steve to turn off the TV as soon as he was done watching his show as I was going to take a nap. He assured me he would.

I had been asleep for maybe ten minutes when there was an awful screech of metal as well as banging and clanging coming from the doorway at the top of our basement stairs.

To keep our two dogs downstairs while we eat or are gone, as our Finn can both open doors and clean off an entire countertop of edibles in less than a minute, I bought and installed a metal garden fence section as a swing gate just inside the basement door. It has two hasps with pins to keep it shut. A couple of days before Christmas something spooked Finn when we were gone and he literally tore through that gate, popping welds off and pulling the gate open. He greeted us at the door when we returned home. The gate was a mess and Finn was nearly inconsolable. Sadie cowered in the background. We never did figure out what frightened them.

So now I am trying to take my nap and The Hubster decides he needs to weld the gate back together. Being that it was so twisted and misshapen; disconnecting it from the hinges that attached to the doorframe was a challenge for him. Not to mention noisy.

“Steve! Please stop and do that later! I’m trying to rest!” I called out.

More clanging and banging. I get up. “Steve! I told you that I was going to rest for a bit! PLEASE go away!”

“What is wrong with you!” thunders He. “Why don’t you sleep at night like a normal person! Just go back to sleep – I’m not making that much NOISE!”

I was dumbfounded. This man is supposed to be my helpmate, my friend. He wouldn’t stop his racket until the gate was off. Then he did leave. I tried to get back to sleep but couldn’t. Shoot.

Granted, he did a nice job on the welding, and remembered to touch up the welds with fresh paint, though it was flat black and the rest of the gate is shiny black. I kept my mouth shut. But that bag of trash sat there until the next day when I picked it up and headed out the door with it.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING KIDLET’S CHORES?” yells The Hubster. “YOU TOLD ME TO NEVER, EVER, EVER DO KIDLET’S CHORES FOR HIM!”

Can someone please get me a new iPhone with a verbal translator app installed? I think that I have been speaking Greek again, lol.

Saran Scrunch

On Christmas Eve day our home was a buzzing hive of activity. I was decorating, baking, cleaning, wrapping, singing, calling, facebooking, and in a wonderful frame of mind.

I love Christmas.

We planned on attending the 6 p.m. candlelight service at church. Around 4:00 I surveyed the lack of available space on my kitchen counters due to dozens and dozens of cookies and confections in the process of being made, cooling, or being stacked on plates and trays. The dishwasher was running and there was still a substantial mound of bowls, utensils, measuring cups and cookware to be washed.

"Steve? Would you mind going to town to grab a pizza for dinner? If you don't want to, I can do it myself, no problem."

"Do I have to order it?" asks The Hubster.

"Nope, already did it," I respond. "They are a bit backed up so it won't be ready for about twenty minutes."

I went back to singing my way through a winter wonderland and sliding a fresh batch of cookies off a baking sheet.

My hubby came back with the pizza and slid it into the bottom oven for me. He was amazingly pleasant. A family sized double crust stuffed combo pizza has that effect on him.

"Sweetie, the timer for the pizza is set. I need to jump in the shower, so can you take out the pizza when the timer goes off? Be sure to tell Kidlet when it's time to eat, and leave the dogs in the basement. Thanks!"

We have a German Shorthair who believes his sole purpose in life is to remove all edible morsels from horizontal surfaces. Kitchen counters, tables, plates on laps. He is super stealth in his missions. All you hear is the click of his toe nails hitting the floor after filching food.

Clean and dressed for church, I also grab a slice. The Hubster and Kidlet seem to be done with theirs, so I ask Hubster to wrap up the remaining pizza and pop it in the fridge.

Time lapse.

Christmas morning. I am the first one up. Not unusual. It's only 4 a.m.

I put on a pot of coffee. I turn on my ovens to begin preparations for my Christmas day feast. I open the fridge to grab a slice of pizza for my early morning breakfast. I honestly wasn't sure that there would be any left as it often will disappear mysteriously overnight. Such is our life with a fifteen year old male in the household.

Whoopie! I'm in luck. Pizza is there.

But wait! There's a huge wad of plastic wrap on top with a four inch gap in the middle. And yes, the entire top of the pizza is all dried out. The Hubster refuses to use my Saran Wrap. He used that disgusting Saran Scrunch again. The Scrunch that never stays shut.

lol - Merry Christmas!

If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…

then don’t say anything at all!

Zip your lip. Can it. Stuff it. Put a lid on it.

Was there actually a time when I thought my hubby was introverted? I must have been dreaming.

The holidays are stressful for him, I do know that. But he is a grown man and I don’t understand how he can be such a blathering idiot! The things that have been coming out of his mouth lately are unbelievable.

I’m wondering if there’s enough money in the checking account to buy The Hubster a one way ticket to another continent. Hmmm, tempting.

I am not a person to have to dust off the gifts under the tree in order to pass them out. I actually enjoy shopping a few days before Christmas as I love the bargains. Youngest and Oldest Kidlets (actually both are Manlets now) went out and about with me yesterday (fortunately I had already gotten their gifts a few days before). We had a wonderful, relaxed afternoon wandering through our favorite stores. We went up and down each and every aisle, invented randomly obscure uses for common everyday things, poked fun at some of the silly items we saw, and laughed and sang until our sides hurt.

And yes, easily completed our shopping.

When my husband had asked me a few days ago about the Christmas schedule, who what where when, I explained it to him and offered to write it down. Christmas day only with everyone at our house this year. Easy peasy. Since we are going to Christmas Eve service tonight, I don’t even have to put shoes on tomorrow.

“When should I wrap my gifts?” asketh He.

“We are pretty much out of paper and gift tags which I am going to pick up on Monday when the boys and I are out shopping,” replieth I.

There was no further comment, so I thought that was the end of it.

Ha ha!

When we got home yesterday we unloaded the car and carried everything into my bedroom to set it on our bed – oh, I mean gift wrapping station.

And there was a pile of gifts wrapped in wrinkled, pieced together mush.

I walked into the livingroom to confront my husband.

“Did you already wrap your gifts?” I ask. “I thought I told you that you could wrap them tonight after I bought new paper and tags?”

“It is tonight!” says Steve.

“Yes, it is now 6:03 p.m., but it wasn’t evening when you wrapped them!” I respond.

“I don’t like to wait until the last minute!” says The Hubster, though I do know from twenty years of prior experience with the man that he does in fact often do exactly that.

“Come here please,” I request.

In our room, with the door shut, I pick up a package. There was a wrinkly glob of wrapping paper in the corner of the box.

“What is this?” I ask.

“The gift tag. I made it myself.”

“I can see that, Sweetie. Why is it taped shut?” I inquire.

“Because the paper was too wrinkled to stay shut,” explains my ‘creative’ mate.

I carefully unstuck one side of the mess to peer at the writing.

“Steve! Why does it say ‘From the elves and reindeer?’ Do you mean ‘Santa’?” I am flabbergasted.

“Why do I have to do everything your way? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

With that he thunders off.

Oh Sweetheart, please don’t tempt me! After all, it's Christmas!

Can You See This?

I can't imagine living life with Aspergers Syndrome.

There are so many things that my husband just doesn't get. And it makes him anxious, confused, angry, frustrated.

"Steve, can I borrow your glue gun for a minute? I just broke off this little doo-dad on my Christmas ornament, and I think that if I put a touch of hot glue on it will be just fine."

The Hubster is watching a car show on TV and looking up car parts or something on his 'puter. He doesn't acknowledge that he heard my request, so after a few minutes I repeat it.

"WHAT?" thunders Hubby without turning his head from his computer screen. "You did NOT say you wanted me to GET IT, or if you were going to get it, and if you wanted it THIS MINUTE or if you wanted it NEXT WEEK, or if you were just ASKING as a general point of reference, and you TOLD me not to make assumptions!"

The roar that emanated from his still-seated form nearly deafened me as I was standing merely two feet away holding the ornament with its broken piece in my hands. 

I allowed the ringing in my ears to subside before I responded.

"I'm sorry, Dear. I didn't remember to specifically ask you if I could use it now, and if you would get it for me, please."

I was trying hard to stay calm. I really just wanted to get the tree decorating done as there was a long list of other things I wanted to do. 

Still remaining motionless, Steve continued to sit.

I sighed and asked, "If you tell me where it is, may I go get it?"

The Hubster's fingers began dancing across his keyboard.

"Huh?" he grunts, still glued to the 'puter screen.

I look at the ornament in my right hand and the "spare" piece pinched with my left fingers. I sigh and set them down on a table.

Looks like the only thing that getting glued right now is his focus on his web search.

Anyone see the forest for the trees? lol