Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Today is my two-year wedding anniversary! Adam and I have been together 5 years, married for 2, and we’ve known eachother for 13. 

I have NEVER complained about his gifting skills because, frankly, he gives great presents! He’s never bought me an ugly piece of jewelry,  he knows what lingerie I like and we both love fishing and camping so of course he knows how to pick out that kind of stuff. So, I always expect that his gifts will be great but I never expect much presentation (“boys don’t like to wrap!!”)

TODAY, however… he managed to surprised me. I wasn’t even sure if we were exchanging gifts, since we didn’t last year (we were fishing last year on the Kenai). Yesterday I picked him up a cool AK-49 tshirt and a new bird-hunting wii game (Remington: BirdHunt!), then cautiously let him know that I did in fact get him something for our anniversary (just in case he needed time to go out and get something). He just smiled and said “okay”.

When he got home from work this afternoon, he thrust a cute pink gift bag into my hands and told me to open it (and he looked really excited). I was also instructed to open the card last. This is what I found:

“Cotton to Smell” (candle)

“Cotton to Wear” (socks)

“Cotton to BURN!” (moohlah!)

My god, he knows me SO WELL!! :) So, apparently, my newly creative husband actually took the time to look up and find out that the traditional second anniversary gift is — you guessed it — COTTON. Then he coordinated a WONDERFUL present around that theme… I am SO IMPRESSED! And for those of you who were wondering… money is made of cotton. He told me he remembered that from the movie National Treasure! :) 

YAY for new tricks! Happy anniversary to my fabulous husband who knows just how to light up my day.  :)

Yep… we’re married.

Adam and I were in the car the other day discussing his birthday plans, and he told me that I am “required” to come out to the cabin with him for a snowmachine trip next weekend (his bday is the 19th). Thinking back to the last time I was at our little cabin in Talkeetna, I remembered that while I was *a little* intoxicated over New Year’s Eve I *may* have stepped in a bit of dog doo. Or a freaking POOL of it, from the looks of my boots. Which I haven’t cleaned off yet, because, well, it’s disgusting and I have a majorly sensitive nose (and gag reflex). So they’ve been sitting outside our garage for like a month. Also, I forgot about them.

So… obviously I can’t use them again until they are cleaned, and according to Adam I’m going snowmachining next weekend. Being me (a squeamish, conniving sexpot), I thought I’d use my uber-sexiness as a bargaining tool…

Me: So… (seductively)… what do I have to do to get you to clean my boots off?

Adam: What do you mean?

Me: You know, like, a deal. What do I need to DO in exchange for you cleaning my snowboots.?

Adam: (without missing a beat) Finish my laundry.

Me: Seriously? Laundry? No sexual favors???

Adam: That’s not an even trade! You’re asking me to do something shitty – (ha, ha) – in exchange for you doing something fun! Don’t disguise it like it’s only fun for me. Now do we have a deal or what??

Me: *sigh* I guess. Do I have a deadline?

Adam: Sure. When do you want me to wear clean underwear by?

Yep. Marriage. Soooo glamorous.

*side note: I never do Adam’s laundry. I took a stand like, 5 years ago when I realized I was spending half my life in the laundry room. Now I get mad when I find out even one of his socks has slipped into my laundry basket… so this is a Big. Deal. And he totally knows it… Brat.

So THAT’S what “married” means…

Okay, I know I’m still sort of newly married (1.5yrs)… but PLEASE tell me this isn’t something I have to look forward to.

Adam and I, having a light conversation while sitting on the couch this evening.

Me: Blah blah blah, that movie Zombieland made me kind of queasy… blah…

Adam: Something something chicken wings for the Superbowl party…

Me: Hey, what are you doing with your hand? Stop playing with your crotch and just have a conversation with me for one second please.

Adam: I’m moving my balls off my leg. I’m not playing with my balls.

Me: Whatever, it’s weird. Please stop.

Adam: WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET USED TO THE FACT THAT I TOUCH MY BALLS? I’m, a dude, it’s what we do.

Me: It’s just fucking weird and uncomfortable for me when I’m sitting here trying to look you in the eyes and have a conversation, and you’ve got your hand down your pants trying to act like everything’s normal! And by the way, how long does it take to “move your balls off your leg”? You’ve had your hand down your pants for 5 minutes!

Adam: Well if I move my hand, they’ll be touching my leg again now won’t they? Duh.

Me: You’re making me uncomfortable. Can you just quit it at least while we’re talking?

Adam: Jenny! Knock it off! Nothing should be uncomfortable between us. We both should be able to sit here facing eachother, buck naked, Indian-style and have a normal conversation. We’re MARRIED.

Me: I just choked on my tea. I’m going to bed. And I’m never sitting Indian-style again. Ever.

A Favorite from JennyFast

Just thought I’d give another little peek at my husband’s mind… from a post I put on jennyfast.com back in August of 2008 (just after my wedding).

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OH, HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED…

A few days ago Adam came home with an Axe Body Wash combo pack and was excited about this “detailer thingy” that had been advertised as this manly bath sponge for manly dudes.

 I can’t think of how many times Adam (or my dad, or his dad) has bugged me about buying makeup or pedicures or hair stuff or clothes or ANYTHING that they could’ve found for cheaper… (you bought a facial mud mask? I could find you some mud out back! Why do you waste your money??). So of course my natural, snappy response was this:

“You bought THAT? A “detailer“? What does that even mean? I could find one of those for like, FIFTY CENTS, anywhere!”

 Adam, defensively: “This one is for boys.”

Oh. Excuuuuuuse me.

detailer

THIS, looks like a MAN’S sponge. It is DEFINITELY worth more than fifty cents, and no woman should ever think she is allowed to use it because it is for MAN parts.

THIS, is a GIRLY sponge, and no man could possible ever consider using it, even though no one sees him IN THE SHOWER.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go wash my face in the mud from the backyard.