Birthday Grump

It's The Hubster's birthday.

The half century one. One that most people celebrate with gaiety, frivolity, merry making and friends.

Not at our house.

Wildly barking dogs woke us up at 3:30ish this morning. Our dogs. Hubby's dogs.

"Steve, please shut your dogs up. It's too early, even for me!" I mumbled, trying to nudge the incoherent snoring form beside me.

"Hmmm, mmehhnnmmm, frummm ummm," grumbled my husband.

But wonders of wonders, he arose and sleepily wandered down the hall to the door to our basement. His deep toned, rumbled "command" echoed down the stairway. Dog nails clicked along the hallway as Spouse came back to bed, bedroom door slamming behind him.

More crazed barking ensued from regions below.

"STEVE!" I spoke sharply. "I thought you were going to stop the dogs from barking!"

Now I am sitting straight up in bed. The clock steadily glowed 3:42 a.m.

In the morning.

It was still pitch black outside.

"Sadie didn't want to stop," replied groggy Mate.

"What?" I demanded. "She's a DOG! Make her stop!"

 "I CAN'T!" proclaimed Steve.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and vaulted upright into my slippers. Grabbing my robe I headed out the bedroom door. Swinging the basement door open, I demanded Sadie to "come".

She did. I then put her in our room with Steve and our other dog Finn, and went into the kitchen to make coffee. I'm one of those people who, once awake, find it impossible to go back to sleep.

At 4:21 a.m. The Hubster's alarm for work goes off. Yah, I know. Weird time. But hey, he has Asperger's Syndrome and it makes sense to him.

As he enters the kitchen to put together his lunch, I wish him happy birthday. I then ask some sort of question for which I simply need information in order to figure out our plans for later on.

"Why are you ALWAYS complaining?" demands the Birthday 'Boy'. "For every seven words you speak, you are complaining about something with six! EVERY TIME!"

Whoooooaaahhhh! Say what?

"Steve, don't people at work ask you about your schedule at work in order to plans meetings and stuff?"

He grudgingly admitted they do.

"That's all I'm trying to do! I am trying to plan our day!"

He huffed and gruffed, and ambled away. Stomping, of course, to the shower where he proceeded to raise a total ruckus by dropping the bar soap, slamming his elbows into the showerstall walls, and other assorted bangs and crashes that resounded throughout the house.

On his way out the door I told him that Manlet and I would be gone, and stay out of his way tonight. He said "fine" and slammed the door.

Happy Birthday, Sweetie. Can I shove your cake in your face?

Quick Energy

The large aerospace company where the Hubster has worked for the last thirty years is notorious for trying to keep their employees happy and health. They constantly offer health evaluations, including blood pressure checkups, cholesterol and triglyceride testing, and monitor blood sugar levels.

Steve returned home a few weeks ago downcast. His blood pressure is up a bit, his cholesterol and triglycerides are skyrocketing, and his blood sugar is astronautical - yes, straight into outer space. The health professionals told him to lose weight and cut down on fats, sugar, and carbs.

Ummm hmmmm. Boy doesn't my spouse love doing those things.

Our daughter is getting married next week. I have been able to shed a few extra pounds myself using a seventeen day diet. You basically eat salad. A rabbit diet. Not fun, but it works.

Manlet finished his select baseball season the end of July. Since he is going into his final year of high school next week, we booked some college tours with baseball tryouts on the east coast. We live on the west coast. Manlet also plays high school football, American version, and needed to be back on the 18th in order to start practice on the 19th. Manlet flew to Ohio to visit a friend, then I met him in Georgia the following week. We traveled up to New York and back down to Florida. I was gone just a week.

Just before we left, I went grocery shopping. I bought a ton of veggies and fruit, chicken and fish. Easy things for Steve to fix himself since he had the diet book full of meal plans and recipes. Our market had a sale on peanutbutter, so I purchased two 18 ounce jars, one smooth and one chuncky, for Manlet when he returned home. At seventeen he's 6'3", 217 pounds and still growing. He probably consumes 4,000 calories a day, which he burns off immediately. PBJ sandwiches are a quick, simple snack for him. He eats a lot of them.

Hubby, on the other hand, shouldn't eat food high in fat, calories, or carbs. He knows it.

After Manlet and I returned from our trip I was putting granola bars away in the pantry and noticed that one of the peanut butter jars was missing. I picked up the remaining jar and saw that it was darn near empty. There was approximately a quarter of a teaspoon left.

"Sweetie, did you eat all of Manlet's peanut butter over eight days?"

Sweetie fidgeted and mumbled.

"Seriously? Those two jars contained 34 servings! Almost 900 grams of fat and 3200 calories! Really?"

More mumbling and some toe scraping accompanied by a backwards shuffling of feet, his, towards the front door.

"Why" I queried, trying hard to keep my voice down and calm.

"Because I need quick energy!" yelled my illustrious mate as he turned to flee.

*Sigh* 

All I could do is shake my head. I sometimes grow weary of being married to an eight year old. After a seven hour trip, including plane changes, I was too tired to laugh, so off to bed I went...