Old Mother Hubbard

My house was out of chocolate.

I know I know, impossible, but true.

and I got a little desperate

and a little snippy (ok, a LOT snippy).


While my mother was visiting, I brought in all of my best chocolate bars for her to try... and then ate them. all. I did let her try them. a little.

I was digging through every hiding place and the best I could find was a Cadbury's Freddo bar that I had pinched out of the kids' Easter basket.

Quite a disappointment after three weeks of a gourmet chocolate coma.

So today while thinking I was going to have to drink a gallon of ovaltine to fix my craving, I suddenly remembered Mikki.

Mikki had a giveaway a while back and all you had to do to win a fabulous goodie box was to reveal previously undisclosed quirks about yourself.

We all know I have NO shame, so I inundated her email with things one needs never know about moi. It was fun. Since you didn't ask, the random fact that won was:"Fact: I like Steve. I never liked Joe."

But the fun really began when she told me that a box was coming my way!

It arrived during the mother-visit chaos and was tucked away in a safe place for proper photos to be taken-- thus my very rude and delayed response in posting about it.

Can you believe the gold mine in here? How fun is this?

THANK YOU MIKKI!

That's chocolate in there among the pretty cards, stationary, quirky salt and pepper shakers for our BBQ table and other cute things.

This was the last time J2 was able to use his right hand as he reached for my chocolate.
Silly boy, he's 10, he should know by now NEVER to reach for a woman's chocolate. Living dangerously.

So crisis over, the world is rosy again.

I'm thinking I need to load up on my chocolate--in the interest of doing a post about chocolate, of course.

Just looking out for you, as always.

Death by Chocolate

The joys of Scrolling Saturday.
Rather than squeeze a little humour out while juggling kids, who on day two of holiday are BORED, I can just cut and paste. I like that. a lot. Contest will go up by Monday. I have the goodies ready for photographing now... oooh, I am so excited!

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

My Husband is Trying to Kill Me

I joke you not. I want you to watch for me and if a day or two passes without a new blog entry, I want you to contact the authorities. Fast.
I am not delusional, I have proof.
Today while frantically searching for the JC Penney card that I last saw in his hands when he was paying bills, I came upon a chilling discovery--- in my pajama drawer.
Why was I looking for a credit card in my pajama drawer? It's my stash-everything-in-here-quick-someone's-coming-over-drawer, and don't pretend you don't have one (or a closet, trunk, shower stall that you shove everything into when the doorbell rings).
And yes, people DO come into my bedroom. For some reason, everyone who graces our front step will ask for a tour of the house-- including the engineer who hooked up my hob and cooker (stove for you American-types). It could be because this place is massive. People will stand in our kitchen and look out the french doors across the courtyard, with the two ponds and connecting stream and ask, "Is that (pointing to the two-story bedroom side of the house) part of yours as well?"
One man who came to fetch J1 for a party we had shown up to without him (grumpy teenager, I didn't mind that he wanted to stay behind), returned to the festivities and all he could say was, "They live in the flippin' Pentagon!"

We were tremendously lucky in finding this place, but that's NOT what concerns me now. What I have thought about all day was what I found in my drawer.
In addition to a Pokemon ball, and a Creative Memories catalog, there's a box of German Truffles in a lovely gold box with a shiny blue ribbon. A gift from my husband when he returned from his vaca--I mean deployment. There's also a huge bar of some imported 70% cocoa, a monster Galaxy bar, and some British licorice mix. All brought to me at various times by my husband. My pancreas is screaming just thinking about it.
Out of curiosity, I went to my bedside table--yep, the sweets had found their way there as well.

Women who are swooning over such a thoughtful husband, please enlighten me. I don't think I have a romantic bone in my body (I might have had once, but all of my bones are tired these days and I can't make out which ones do what), I see it as his way of slowly poisoning me to get me out of the way so that he can have all of these kids (the crying, puking, peeing, pooping, mucous factories that they are) all to himself! I know it, and I fear for my life.
I'm afraid it won't be long now, he just came home from work and he brought me a life-sized Tootsie Roll! Help.

The down side of being a military wife

This morning, determined NOT to be addicted to blogging, I decided I would only pull in my email and then shut this Mac-baby down for the day. Things never quite work out how we plan, do they? (Yikes, I just did the British "question thing!" how funny).

Any who, I had an email from Heidi, of Muddy H2O.

I discovered MH2O through one of my favorite blog sites, Getinthecar! Jen was having a give-away for a Chocolate face mask and well, if there's anything with chocolate involved, you can count me in! I immediately went searching for a place to order.

Living overseas can really be a great experience. However, when you're longing for a taste of home or in need of something that you can't find here, things can get a bit frustrating. Few places will ship to an APO address. What APO means is, you post the item to me. It travels to NY where the military takes over and sees it to it's final destination. You don't pay any more than if you were shipping to your Grandma, but you do have to fill out a customs slip-- which is mostly a check-the-box-and-sign type of form. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out, but it does take extra effort. Many Ebay sellers won't ship to APO, Target has never shipped anything to APO, Amazon can't send electronics or gourmet items (so much for belonging to the "Hot Sauce of the Month" club) and I once spent an entire day uploading 600 pictures to Walmart only to be told at check-out that they wouldn't ship photos to an APO. You try to figure why.

So, when I contacted the MH2O company directly and asked how I could get my hands on a chocolate Muddy, Heidi told me she would ship it to me personally-- in support of my husband serving in the military.
Regardless how you feel about the war or anything else with the military, you need to know that on a regular basis, we are bombarded by negativity from total strangers. Once on an Amazon chat, I noticed some idiot taking a verbal punch at a Veteran and even though I normally don't get involved with chats, I felt like I needed to this time. Needless to say, he then attacked me with comments about how joining the military was our choice or rather maybe we didn't have a choice (inferring I had a lack of education). Whatever, Einstein.
We did choose the military for reasons I won't go into here, and it's not always easy. The 15 months we have lived here in England, my husband has been away in one place or another for more than half of it. He has missed several birthdays, 4th of July celebrations, Thanksgiving, "Firsts" (like first day of school for two kids, baby milestones for two babies, teenage 'firsts' etc...). He has been gone when the house needed repairs, the tires have gone flat, vehicular accidents and most recently, for the High School Graduation and overseas move of our teenager.
I am proud of him. He works hard, loves his family and loves his country. So I really like people like Heidi that recognize him and the sacrifice he makes in serving our country.

Today's email from Heidi went something like this:

"I mailed your box this afternoon. I ran into a little wrinkle when I attempted to ship the package. I naively believed that if I sent your package via an APO address and you were an American citizen then the package would not be considered "export merchandise". Hooooo Weeeeee..... " "I got from the clerk a big, fat "You can't send this, Lady!"
'So, instead. I sent your package as a gift. Your Visa number has been shredded and will never see the light of day again. Please accept this gift from Muddy H2O as our show of appreciation for your husband serving in our military and your hard work at being "Mom" and "Wife". You deserve a little chocolate pampering.' "

Wow. I almost cried. I immediately thought, "What can I do to repay this lady who has never met me or my husband?"
And then it came to me.
All six of you reading this blog, no pressure, but what I am hoping you will do is 1.) If you've EVER done a facial in your entire life, would you please support this company and try one of theirs? They even have single packets, so you don't have to break the bank with this. and 2.) Could you send the link to every warm-blooded being you know so that THEY will support this company? They have retailers all through the West (that will ship to the East, not sure about Canada though, Tara).
If you're not sold on this product, click here to read Jen's account. Her HUSBAND noticed.....

My Husband is Trying to Kill Me

I joke you not. I want you to watch for me and if a day or two passes without a new blog entry, I want you to contact the authorities. Fast.
I am not delusional, I have proof.
Today while frantically searching for the JC Penney card that I last saw in his hands when he was paying bills, I came upon a chilling discovery--- in my pajama drawer.
Why was I looking for a credit card in my pajama drawer? It's my stash-everything-in-here-quick-someone's-coming-over-drawer, and don't pretend you don't have one (or a closet, trunk, shower stall that you shove everything into when the doorbell rings).
And yes, people DO come into my bedroom. For some reason, everyone who graces our front step will ask for a tour of the house-- including the engineer who hooked up my hob and cooker (stove for you American-types). It could be because this place is massive. People will stand in our kitchen and look out the french doors across the courtyard, with the two ponds and connecting stream and ask, "Is that (pointing to the two-story bedroom side of the house) part of yours as well?"
One man who came to fetch J1 for a party we had shown up to without him (grumpy teenager, I didn't mind that he wanted to stay behind), returned to the festivities and all he could say was, "They live in the flippin' Pentagon!"

We were tremendously lucky in finding this place, but that's NOT what concerns me now. What I have thought about all day was what I found in my drawer.
In addition to a Pokemon ball, and a Creative Memories catalog, there's a box of German Truffles in a lovely gold box with a shiny blue ribbon. A gift from my husband when he returned from his vaca--I mean deployment. There's also a huge bar of some imported 70% cocoa, a monster Galaxy bar, and some British licorice mix. All brought to me at various times by my husband. My pancreas is screaming just thinking about it.
Out of curiosity, I went to my bedside table--yep, the sweets had found their way there as well.

Women who are swooning over such a thoughtful husband, please enlighten me. I don't think I have a romantic bone in my body (I might have had once, but all of my bones are tired these days and I can't make out which ones do what), I see it as his way of slowly poisoning me to get me out of the way so that he can have all of these kids (the crying, puking, peeing, pooping, mucous factories that they are) all to himself! I know it, and I fear for my life.
I'm afraid it won't be long now, he just came home from work and he brought me a life-sized Tootsie Roll! Help.