Archive for September, 2008

Published by PaintingChef on 25 Sep 2008

I’m angry… you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

I’m furious. I am nail-spitting, teeth-gnashing, fertility-med-like furious. Allow me to set the scene if I may…

One of the things I do at work is run out during the day to the post office. And as one of the people be-bopping around town in my Volkswagen with my Obama magnet on the trunk, I enjoy the camaraderie I’ve noticed with other supporters. We acknowledge each other in traffic and in parking lots. We smile and we wave. It’s kind of fantastic and makes me less stabby when I’m navigating mid-day traffic.

On Tuesday when I parked at the post office I parked in between two other cars who also had Obama paraphernalia on their vehicles. So I did my normal smile-wave-acknowledge a total stranger thing and IT WAS NOT RECIPROCATED. I was shocked! Being the tough cookie that I am, I choked back my tears and went about my business. But as I was walking back to my car, I noticed that something looked… off. Then I realized what it was. My magnet was MISSING. It had been there that morning! I know because I put something in my trunk that morning and saw it and smiled. Like I always do.

I know what happened. I’m pretty sure I even know who took it. As you are aware, I work for my father’s construction company now. Construction workers are a… notoriously right-wing group. At least in the south. This is absolutely ridiculous and asinine because I could sit them all down and explain to them just why they are making a poor choice for themselves and their families. But I would be wasting my time. So until now, we’ve happily and peacefully co-existed. I leave their rebel flags alone and they’ve ignored my Obama magnet. And when they parked a bobcat in my yard with a bumper sticker that read “Obama 2008: Death and Starvation” I rolled my eyes at the ignorance and ignored it. (For the record… they were doing work at our house, it wasn’t just a random act of Bobcat parking.)

But that’s all changed now. And when I got back in my car at the post office all fuming and hands shaking mad I called Patrick. And told him what had happened. I warned him that I was headed back to the office with a “head full of steam” and if he didn’t want his wife to end up in jail maybe he could throw out the warning that if this was a joke it was done poorly and perhaps if the magnet were on my desk when I got back, I might be convinced to forget the whole thing. Um… I also may have mentioned something about holding paychecks for ransom, I’m not sure. I think I blacked out from the rage. (Obviously I didn’t hold anyone’s paychecks for ransom. As that would be just as wrong as stealing the damn thing in the first place. And I won’t stoop. No matter how badly I want to.)

NOBODY fessed up. I had to buy a new magnet (which I did! with a back-up!). And I’m still pissed. People are such assholes sometimes.

Published by PaintingChef on 24 Sep 2008

Oh look. More proof that I break my own rules.

Reasons I have given Patrick in the past 24 hours in an attempt to get out of dinner at my in-laws tonight…

1. Project Runway is on and now that Joe is finally gone I won’t have to wipe ice cream I’ve flung at the screen every time he opens his mouth off once the show is over.
2. I TiVo’d 90210 last night and MAYBE it doesn’t still suck. After all… we did find out that Dylan is Kelly’s baby-daddy. And I’m quite certain that your parents do not want to talk about 90210.
3. I was thinking about going to the gym. For the third time since we joined. In January.
4. I broke a nail. (I did not break a nail. I never break a nail. But I totally would… if it would work.)
5. There will be a political discussion and you are going to get really mad at me when I stick my dinner fork in your dad’s eye. Again.
6. I’m having a bad hair day.
7. The zit on my chin.
8. I’m still pissed that someone stole my Obama magnet off my car and I will probably just blame your father for it.
9. I need to clean out the refrigerator because I’m not certain but I think I heard something speak from inside some of that damn Tupperware.
10. Look! I have this get out of jail free card from Monopoly. Can I use that?
11. I need to water the plants.
12. I’m drunk.

Published by PaintingChef on 22 Sep 2008

Chemical. But possibly not hereditary.

“Hey mom. Have you turned to the wine yet? I have found it most helpful in dealing with the high degree of The Crazy we just endured.”

“I’m not sure what took you so long, I’m well into my second glass by now.”

“I don’t know either… apparently my crazy husband like to eat dinner and so I needed something to cook him.”

“That’s why I married one who cooks.”

“Oh please. He didn’t acquire that skill until very recently. Don’t try and act like his culinary awakening was part of your master plan. I remember a time many, many years ago when it took every ounce of domestic brain power dad and I had between us to make Kraft macaroni and cheese. And I’m pretty sure we still ended up ordering pizza because we tried to mix it all up without first draining the pasta.”

“Wow. I don’t think I ever heard about that one.”

“Yeah… I doubt he’ll own up to it now. Especially since we both turned out to be fairly gifted in matters of the kitchen.”

“I wonder if it was all that Bitter Lemon he used to let you drink. Or maybe the red pistachio shells you used to paint your lips.”

“I still maintain that I was a pioneer of the lip stain industry. Wait. So you are trying to blame it all on a chemical reaction?”

“Um… I guess so?”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

And I refuse to confirm the rumor that immediately after hitting publish, I purchased 2 cases of Bitter Lemon using that link…

Published by PaintingChef on 17 Sep 2008

It’s amazing what you can learn from a conversation with your husband.

There are several topics that Patrick and I generally refrain from discussing because it would suck if one of us were dead and the other in jail… for causing the deadness…

Generally, we complement each other well; we balance each other out and get along famously when one of us isn’t whizzing frozen poultry within an inch of the other’s ear-hole. But there are times that we have to retreat to our respective corners and, other than a few nasty looks, ignore the hell out of each other until the stabbiness passes.

And what a shocker… one of those areas of general disagreement is politics. (You may all act appropriately surprised now while I take a moment and remove this ten pound weight called “DUH” from around my neck).

Ah. Better. Thanks.

So. One of us is more… passionate and outspoken than the other. I’ll let you guess who. And the other one loathes politics and politicians and just. doesn’t. want. TO. TALK. ABOUT. IT. ANYMORE. So PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TURN OFF Bill Maher because he isn’t helping us get along at all! (I make it a point to try and understand where Patrick is coming from and be sympathetic to his point of view and sometimes Bill has a token Republican on there because that one time I said that Republicans were like Stephen Colbert but SERIOUS ABOUT IT didn’t go over so well… oops… I gave it all away, didn’t I?)

Anyway. What this boils down to is our conversations follow some rules… Football? Safe. Shoes? Safe. Hollywood Gossip? Safe but narcoleptic for Patrick. Home Improvement Projects? Touchy. In-Laws? Unwise but unavoidable. Politics? DANGER! DANGER!! (This is the part where I tell you that we never run out of things to talk about… I just USUALLY try and find a way to steer it back to shoes.)

But something… amazing happened Monday evening and I kind of thought that the world was going to fold in on itself and that maybe that Large Hadron Collider just had some sort of delayed reaction bug. Patrick and I… TALKED about politics. We had an actual conversation. Oh sure, it all started because he got pissed I was watching Bill Maher. Again. And I accused him of not taking this election seriously. Again. And then instead of the usual lips-pursed tense non-talking that follows that conversation we just… talked.

One thing that, all evidence to the contrary, I’ve always made a point to NOT do is try and sway Patrick one way or the other. I made the mistake once of asking him about something and he just DID. NOT. WANT. TO. TALK. ABOUT. IT. In some ways, this goes back to the fundamental differences in the way Patrick and were raised. In my house? You asked questions. You thought about it. You wondered why things were the way that they were and you just… spoke up. In his house? You did what you were told. I don’t really know what that has to do with anything; in my mind it has just always seemed relevant.

But I didn’t want to have this conversation with Patrick because I wanted him to be ALL OBAMA ALL THE TIME. I just wanted to know where he was coming from and it occurred to me that we’d never really talked about it. Most people would probably throw up a red flag here and be all… WAIT! You’ve been married to this guy for HOW LONG? SURELY at some point you found it necessary to have a discussion about basic political philosophy. Well… no. Not really. I mean, I knew that he voted for Bush. Twice. And that it turned my stomach a little the first time and nearly gave me a cardiac arrest the second. And while I LIKED my guy the past two times, never have I been… passionate about him. But this time is different. I am passionate. I am convicted. I am inspired by someone. And while I knew that Patrick’s politics probably weren’t in line with Sarah Palin’s (I know this because I like him and I’d like to think that I couldn’t have married someone who… well… um… I don’t care for her and I think she is an insult to women and feminists… this is me trying to be diplomatic), I decided I needed to know just how conservative he really was.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I found out the answer was… not very. No, he doesn’t know who he is voting for yet. He’s still trying to figure that one out. He wants to be able to read non-biased comparisons of the candidates and their stances on the issues that matter to him. So far I’ve directed him FactCheck.Org as that has seemed the most non-partisan one I’ve come across. We don’t agree on everything but we are MUCH more in line on things than I expected to find.

I know, most of you are looking at me like I’m a fool. Because all we had to do was TALK about it. But I think I’ve been so very scared about having that conversation. I am passionate about this election. I am obsessed with the results. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel inspired and encouraged that individual people can make a difference in a country that is kind of in the crapper. We have been lied to and belittled by a corrupt administration for almost 8 years now and it has been enough to put anyone off politics for the rest of their lives. So for someone to rise above that and be a voice of hope and integrity and change… I cannot put into words how excited I am by that. So I think I was afraid of not being able to share that with Patrick. But to hear from him how disgusted he is with the current administration and the condition of things… I don’t know… we may not end up voting the same but I think we are both looking for something similar. And I needed to know that.

Published by PaintingChef on 12 Sep 2008

Daddy Dearest.

“Its been awhile since I’ve been able to spend your birthday with you, Sue. How old are you anyway?”

“I’m 17, dad.”

“Oh. Well. Okay. I don’t want to tell you how to live your life but maybe you should think about sunscreen? Or that fish poison your mom talks about injecting into her face?”

“Thanks dad.”

And a special Happy Birthday to my birthday twin Cate!! You don’t look a day over 17 either!!

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