Thursday, January 31, 2008

My New Identity

So I post about hot guys, and IT "threw up in his mouth a little". I post about love, and Cayne gets up in arms. What can I post about that satisfies you all?

How about my new identity?

I have been known for a lot of things. As a businesswoman. As a mom. As a student. As a wife.

I have NEVER been known for my car. Until today. "M" was in the shop (I'm calling it that until I have uncovered its true gender and name) for some leather/fabric/paint protectant. Part of the purchase deal. I was driving a loaner car. When I left the parking garage, the nice parking attendant took my ticket and says "What happened to your red car?"

I've been parking there for years. He's been working there for the last year, at least. Not once did he ever make mention of my minivan.

So now, after only a week, I'm that woman in the red car. Watch out!

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Love in Any Language

We had a discussion at work the other day about love. About soul mates, and whether you have one true love or not. About how you know you want to be with someone forever. About marriages of choice and arranged marriages. Having been married for almost 13 years, I guess it was natural for them to ask me my thoughts.

I realize it's often perspective - to my friend from India, arranged marriages don't seem that unusual, and he claims love often blossoms, though he, himself, is in a relationship that was not arranged by his parents.

I'm a romantic, but not a believer in the "one true love" concept. I personally believe there is a small subset of people you might love; you fall in love when you cross paths with one of those people who is looking for love too. How else could you explain widows or widowers who find a second love in their life? Trust me, the Dr. and I have explored the hundreds of things that had to happen to get our paths to cross at that exact right moment. Even down to the persistence of my friend Stacey who insisted she was going to find a Dr. that night at the party I almost didn't go to.

In discussing things, I thought of my own parents. I don't think my stepfather is my mother's soul mate at all. But they've been married 38 years, and I know they both love each other in their own way. Certainly not in the way you see in the movies. Maybe sometimes love isn't all fireworks and passion; maybe sometimes its good enough to have a decent, hardworking man who can provide a life for a divorced woman and her year and a half old daughter. Maybe you give up some of the glamour and romance for stability, security, and a better life.

I didn't have the answers for my young charges. But the one thing I did take away from the discussion is that if you have love in your life, whether its the forever kind, or the "just this moment" kind; whether its the fireworks and flowers kind, or the "dinner is on and the laundry is done" kind, it can't be all bad. And you probably shouldn't over analyze it.

In Portuguese, its "Eu amo voce" . . . in whatever language, may you all have, or find, someone to say "I love you."

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Monday, January 28, 2008

Beef . . . It's What's For Dinner

I'd like to thank Waffles for this one. He made me realize that its been 5 days since I posted about hot models I work with or famous people I'd kick my husband out of bed for. Am I slipping? All this lovey, dovey "cars, kids, and G-rated humor" posting . . . is that really befitting of a samba-panty wearing not-quite 40 year old hot WIFE?

So I will share what Waffles managed to lead me to . . . Patrick Ribbsaeter could definitely go on my alternate list.
1. I have a pool at my house . . .
2. What is it about a hot man in a white shirt?
3. (Gulp)
4. Excuse me for a moment . . . I need a cold shower.

5. Ok, I will come hither . . .
Respectfully submitted,
The Wife

Snow Day

Well, the new AWD comes in handy (and red looks great in the snow) . . .

So I was a little late to work today - but look at the faces of boys on a snow day!

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Life Decisions

Heavy stuff.

Living wills. Euthanasia. Assisted suicide. But its about quality of life.

Last night, my friend and I were sitting in the living room, discussing life decisions, and I said to her, "I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug."

She got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine.

What a bitch.

Friday, January 25, 2008

You Show Me Yours . . . I'll Show You MINE

Ok, I'll go first.

1. Just drove it off the showroom floor.

2. At the Chako house.

3. Where I get to sit my fantastic ass.

4. More at the Chako house.

5. The only Chako allowed to drive my new pet - ME!

Respectfully (and gleefully) submitted,
The Wife

That's Not A Beaver . . .

Over a year ago, we were waiting for my husband in his office. Son #1 was bored. Wanted to search the internet. I asked what he was going to look for. He said he wanted to research his favorite animal. I took the bait.

"What's that son?"


Ok, go wipe up the coffee you just spewed out of your nose. Fortunately, I was not drinking anything at that moment, and, like most mothers, I have practiced the ability to not show emotion when your children present you with shocking information.

"Uh . . . sure son. Let's search Google." So I let him put it in the search bar, knowing the inherent danger of searching the world wide web for "beaver" hits. But satisfied that the first three pages of search results appeared to be of the National Geographic/Animal Planet variety of beavers, I let him search. I laid on the floor, closing my eyes, trying to catch some much needed rest.

A moment later, my heart leaped into my throat.

"Uh . . . that's not a beaver . . ." a confused young man said.

I sat up as quickly as I could, trying to clear the haze from my eyes. Trying to focus on the screen, prepare for damage control. My eyes cleared and the first thing I saw was blond, teased hair, pretty blue eyes . . .

It was a website for Kathy Beaver, Remax agent. Selling real estate.

Tragedy averted. Well, at least for another year or two.

* * * * *

This morning, I showed up to my client's office, ready to log into the web and get working. They have a security system that requires us to log into a private secure website and then go through our own secure site. The log in procedure is pretty simple - open up internet explorer, try to launch an external website, the internal login in will pop up . . . and yada, yada, yada.

Normally, I open up IE and try to launch AOL. This morning, for whatever reason, I decided to try to open I don't know if I just have slippery fingers (the "a" key is very close to the "s" key) . . . or if things have really gotten this bad.

But in a room full of people I supervise, I logged into the internet . . .

and found myself logged into www . man . com.

Fortunately, its just site of links, as opposed to pictures.

But with link descriptions like that, you really don't need pictures.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Simma' Down Now . . .

Ok, apparently I've raised the collective blood pressures of my female readership (and my husband) a few points with that last post. Betty's comment was the most succinct . . . HELLO ZESTY!

So let me clarify . . .
  • This man is under my supervision on one of my engagements. However, he's only in our office a couple days a week, and I am not working with him every moment of those days.
  • He actually was a model in college (print, runway, did some Jockey ads, etc.) but is now an auditor. Just like the rest of us auditors. Who really all look that good under our clothes.
  • He wears normal office clothes, and doesn't go around ripping his shirt off. In his normal office clothes, he looks like any other slightly pretty 20-something in a button down and khakis.
  • He's blonde-haired and blue-eyed. For those of you who KNOW me, you know that my tendencies clearly run toward the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauties. You know. Cusack. Antonio Banderas. Benicio Murillo. Johnny Depp. Otis. Joe Speaker. . . . oh, yeah. My husband.
  • He's still below the age of 30. While some of you might find this appealing, I find my tendencies have started to slide further along the age scale. 40 isn't a bad number anymore.

So today, I am not working with any super models (just normal accountants who hide their hotness underneath their conservative exteriors).

However, I am in love with the new little red hottie that is now parked in my garage . . . its pretty like a "she" . . . but it purrs like a "he" when I drive it . . . either way, it's making me happy.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Editors Note: This is NOT a thinly veiled attempt to distract attention from the subject in order to give my husband a false sense of security. I would gladly submit to a polygraph on the matter for all your skeptics - I do not have the hots for model-boy. I did glance at the picture once or twice. Maybe 12 times. But only for purposes of assessing the skills of his photographer.

Should I actually HAVE the hots for anyone my husband should be worried about (short of all "LIST"-makers), I would NEVER post identifying details (like bare-chested pictures) for my loyal readership. I love you all dearly, but you are the WORST secret keepers in the world.

But thanks, Waffles, for trying to psychoanalyze me.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Post 101 - Priceless

Starting the day with a little shot of nitrous oxide . . . .


Having the novocaine take 4 hours to wear off . . .


Picking up your new car from the showroom floor . . .

$0 (Until the loan payments start)

Finding out that your office has sent this guy to be the temporary manager under your direction for the next 3 weeks . . .


Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Monday, January 21, 2008

My Infidelity

It was easier than I thought it would be. I understand, now, how it happens. You're in a relationship; seems to be going good. Then someone appears who shows you things in a different way. Suddenly . . . well, suddenly, I'm that girl.

I don't feel bad about #1. I think #1 and I knew we weren't made for each other. We flirted with the idea of a relationship . . . experimented. But in the end, he needed more from me than I could give, and what he had to give in return, I could get from somewhere else.

#2 and I had the most honest relationship of all. He was cute, in that frat-boy kind of way. Little too much gel in the hair, icy blue eyes, nice teeth. He was younger, didn't need a commitment. We never pretended it was about anything but what it was. Friends with benefits. I told him how it would be from day one; he always gave it to me straight, gave me the bottom line, without any promises he didn't intend to keep. I'm going to miss him, but it will be easier to let him know. I actually think he'll be disappointed, but only until the next hottie shows up, interested. Who knows - I'll keep him in my back pocket. He's the kind of guy you can go back to the next time you're looking for a little somethin' somethin'.

#3 was different. Traditional. Long, involved courtship rituals. A gentleman. Called me three times a day. Just wanted to know how I was. Made sure I was taken care of. Was even sweet with my two boys. The kind of guy most women could really fall for. He was older, sure. Not as young and fresh as #2. But stable, mature, well-established. Some might say I had it pretty good, as those things go. But it started to feel a little old-school. I started to feel like I wasn't getting credit for being independent, for having a brain. He was starting to treat me like a "little woman", but masking it with smooth words, like he understood me. Or maybe I'm just trying to rationalize my own behavior.

When the phone rang yesterday morning, it wasn't #3, like I was expecting. It was HIM - #4. #4 was articulate, his voice smooth, the accent like music. He was interested in a relationship too, it seemed. He promised me everything #3 was giving me, and more. It was the more I was interested in.

Something told me I owed #3 more from our relationship. I almost called him. But #4 was too tempting. Like a bitch in heat, I jumped in the car and went to him, without even thinking. He didn't keep me waiting. I smiled at him; dark eyes, dark skin, and that killer accent. I don't know what it is with me and foreign men. We slipped out together, without anyone really noticing. He wasn't all talk; he showed me everything #3 had, and more. I went home satisfied, but still wanting a little more. When he called me this morning, I decided to test him. I asked for even more, thinking he couldn't come through for me . . . he was just going to be another #3.

I was wrong. He met my demands. And then asked me to commit. To him. To cross the line.

My heart was pounding. I said yes.

#3 doesn't know, yet. I don't have the heart to tell him I went looking somewhere else . . .

The product of my illicit union? It will be here in two days . . .

Respectfully (and unfaithfully) submitted,

The Wife

Friday, January 18, 2008

Read These People . . . Not Me . . . Still Too Busy

No poker content. I don't own a new car yet. You don't want to hear about my work and how stressful it is. So here are a few others to keep you entertained.

B.W.O.P. is the cutest little Asian Jew this non-Asian Jew knows. Thanks for the nod in your post. Her Awards post is definitely worth the read. Thanks for calling me out on my Otis fantasy again. Just in case his wife didn't read it the FIRST time.

Always read Betty when you need a good girl read. She's got awesome photos too. One of these days I may blow some money on a camera if I can get convinced I could shoot what she shoots. She's also got a secret smut post . . . worth a good read when you are by yourself. Well, maybe you and your Rabbit (right Kat?).

Read my husband. Leave comments. The poor guy is still stuck in a desert. Granted, as busy and hectic as I am, I sometimes wish I was stuck in a desert without all of this stuff around me. But when I talk to him, he'd trade me in a heartbeat. Keep him in your thoughts until he's home.

Read CC. I never know if I'm going to see naked women on couches or an analysis of the recession on his blog from day to day. At least I am always surprised.

Keep relaying poker stories . . . I don't have time to play. Although I may join Cayne in his home game in a few weeks . . . might be a good break.

I'll post when I have a new car.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Thursday, January 17, 2008

I'm a Sedan Girl

I've decided. That I'm a sedan girl. Not on the actual sedan. No time to think about that now.

No time for anything right now.

Wish I had something more clever and insightful to share today.

So instead I will send you to comedian Demetri Martin. He is clever and insightful. And funny enough to almost make me pee my pants sometimes. Good thing I have fantastic bladder control.

Go look him up. Try to find his graph comparing the attractiveness of a woman to how much he wants to hear how intuitive her cat is.

Respectfully (and hurriedly) submitted,

The Wife

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Work Life Unbalance

Posting may be sporadic these days. Yesterday I worked 12 hours in the office, came home and did another few. My entire parenting duties consisted of a few hugs and kisses, a 2 minute snuggle, and multiple "get to bed you two"'s.

So in a nutshell, here is my life:
  • No new car yet
  • No insurance money yet
  • No poker
  • No free time
  • No one in my bed but the pillow "man"
  • Too much work
  • Too little time

I'll catch up with y'all when I can come up for air.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Monday, January 14, 2008

Trading Places

So today Falstaff gave me a little kick in the pants on my blog about picking up the idiot who ran out of gas. Yes, you and a thousand other people have told me how STUPID I was to perform that random act of kindness.

But he's a nice guy. So I popped over to his blog today. I think we may have traded places. I present the evidence.

Falstaff could be MrsChako:
  • Recommends switching to higher yield savings, regardless of bank loyalty.
  • Recommends reducing debt load, particularly on credit cards.
  • Recommends additional principal payments on mortgage.
  • Rebalancing 401k.
  • Increasing work hours.
  • Increased focus at work is a priority.

MrsChako could be Falstaff:

  • Losing weight.
  • Wearing a skirt right now.
  • Looking at expensive cars that will likely be purchased by the end of the week.
  • Car shopping has involved only performance and options, with no regard to price yet.
  • Thinking about getting a CrackBerry.
  • Hasn't updated Quicken in 6 months.
  • Lack of job focus.


Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Sunday, January 13, 2008

And the Semi-Finalists Are . . .

In the Sedan category:

Audi A6 3.2 L
BMW 535xi
Lexus GS350 AWD

In the SUV category:

Lexus RX350
Mercedes ML

No choices yet. Not looked at price either, which might sway me. Feel free to add your car insights to the mix, or let me know if I left something critical off.

Note to my readers: When discussing the relative merits of these vehicles with the BMW dealer, I was saying I thought the BMW was more performance, not ride. He said "Miss, by the way your drive, I would say you NEED performance."

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Not Now, Honey . . . I Have a Headache

I'm exhausted. Physically drained.

I took on 12 of them. In one day. Each with his own personality. Each one more beautiful than the next. A 10-hour marathon; back to back. Didn't even take a break in between. OK, that's a lie - I needed food after the first 3 1/2 hours. By the time I was done, I was famished. I downed more bottles of water than I can count. A girl gets thirsty with that kind of activity.

I even, dare I say it, missed seeing the whole Packers/Seahawks game. I insisted on catching updates now and then, between stints. But I gave up Favre for these 12 honeys.

All of them similar, but different in small ways. Some smaller, some bigger. Some dark. Some light. Some were smooth, some a little rougher. Some were quiet, some liked to make a little more noise. All of them fast. Some whispering . . . some purring . . . some with that low rumble. All of them begging me to make them mine. For a price.

Oh yeah, you guessed it . . .

The Wife went luxury car shopping.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Did I Say That?

Courtesy of my father-in-law . . . hit a little too close to home.

A rabbi was talking to precocious six-year-old Mendel.

"So, you tell me that your mother says your prayers for you each night. That's very commendable. What does she actually say?"

Little Mendel replied, "Thank God he's in bed!"

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Friday, January 11, 2008

Conversation WIth My Father-In-Law - Parenting Advice

I have a great relationship with my father-in-law. We discuss many subjects, parenting being one of them. I frequently get advice. I sometimes take it. Today's conversation left me shaking my head and thinking . . . . MEN!

(The lead-in is a discussion about my 10-year old son's fascination with Jenna Jameson, adult film star and current girlfriend of UFC's own Tito Ortiz. This conversation has been edited for length and emphasis.)

The Wife: On of these days, he's gonna Google her and find out that she's not just Tito Ortiz's girlfirend.

DadChako: (Profoundly) Yup.

The Wife: I guess this porn thing with boys is inevitable, huh? They're all gonna find it eventually.

DadChako: (Profoundly) Yup.

The Wife: Maybe I should start subscribing to the Victoria's Secret Catalog so he has something to steal. I could tolerate that.

DadChako: Well, that's really just the munchies before the full meal . . .

Did my father-in-law just say that to me in a conversation? "Munchies"?

I think I need to go wash my brain thoroughly to get that out of my head.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

You Will Now Be Redirected . . .

I posted for BamBam . . . but its now out of order . . . I may be one hot accountant, but I am a techno idiot.

So for the post on my top 5 automated messages . . . go here.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Teach Your Children Well

Wisdom from a 5-year old:

"Mommy, I want to go to Disneyland."

"Son, we just went to Disneyland last year. Do you want to go every year?"

"Yes. I like that place."

"Well, we can't go now. We have to wait until Daddy gets home and talk to him. Daddy would be sad if he found out we went to Disneyland without him."

"Well, you should just not tell him."

* * * * *

Sorry honey, your children are going to be a bad influence on me.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Mrs Chako Almost Gets Rolled

This morning, I had a momentary burst of charity and kindness. Or a brain cramp. Not sure which.

I was on my way to work, when I saw a petite woman standing along side of an older Volvo wagon, holding a gas can. It was a typical winter Seattle morning - gray, raining, cold. Before I knew it, I had pulled over and let her in the car.

"Thanks, she said. Wasn't looking forward to the walk. What a bad day to run out of gas."

I pulled back into traffic, ready to drop her about 1/2 a mile away. She started talking again and my "uh oh" meter started to go off.

"I hate that I keep running out of gas (uh oh). I've got this interview for a job today. Pays $15 an hour. I need that job (uh oh). I didn't finish school. Kinda stupid, I know (uh oh). God, I hope I have money for gas (uh oh)."

At this point she's digging change out of her pockets. I am in the rental car, so fortunately the normal $10 worth of change we have laying around is not there. I eye my purse in the space between us. "Sorry, can't help you there (uh oh. Mentally calculating how much cash I have and will lose, when she rolls me. Wondering if she's armed. Wondering what do I have in the car that I can use as a weapon. Whether or not I can take her in a fist fight, if she's not armed. I've got at least 4 inches on her, but she looks solid and I just lost weight. I'm wearing heels and a suit. Last fight I was in was more than 20 years ago in high school.)."

We arrive at the gas station and she jumps out. "Can you wait for me, for just a minute? (uh oh)" Petitions a few people for change. Goes into the store. I momentarily have this thought of throwing the car in gear and bolting. But I don't. She pumps gas into her gas can. Comes back to the car.

We drove in near silence to her car. "Gas station attendant put an extra $1.00 on the machine. I hate to keep running out of gas (uh oh, only two more blocks to go)."

I arrive back at her car. She thanks me. I drive off, quickly as I can. Realizing that when I'm the only parent on this continent, that was a risk I probably shouldn't have taken.

Or maybe it wasn't really a risk at all.

How many karma points does that buy me? Would it have bought me more without all the "uh oh's"?

If you run out of gas, I apologize in advance for not stopping. I'm still questioning my choice.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Monday, January 7, 2008

Top 5 Automated Messages

So Bam Bam tagged me for this weird one - things you would have automated messages say. Its making me think. I, like most people who have more than three brain cells, prefer not to listen to automated messages for any length of time. But like my friend, if I had to listen to them, at least they could be more realistic.

So here is my try:

  1. A GPS system that skips the pleasant "Lost satellite reception" message and instead says "You'd better hope like hell you know where you are going, because we're somewhere between Hell's Half Acre and BFE Nowhere, and I ain't never found my way outta here before."

  2. A cell phone 411 message that says "City and State, please. Not like our voice recognition software will recognize what you say anyway. But go ahead and try. You can hang up at anytime if you don't get the results you want. We don't care. We already charged your cell phone account the $1.50 when you pressed 'call'."

  3. A computer smart enough that in addition to the little "beep" when you hit the wrong key, it shouts out "You're F---ed Now" the second before you get the BSOD (blue screen of death).

  4. A security system that doesn't just beep at you when the wind blows the door open, but shouts out, in your mother's voice, "Are you trying to heat the whole neighborhood?"

  5. An electronic scale with kind gentle words. Like "Wow MrsChako. Not only are you lighter, but look how perfectly prominent your hip bones are." Or "No worries . . . few more pounds today, honey, but men like a little meat on your ass." Or "Honey, you are smart, successful, happy - don't define yourself by a number like this." Or simply, "Damn girl, I don't even know why you are on this scale - you are looking fine!"

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

A Window Opens . . .

Like that first day in a northern spring when its warm enough to open the windows to let a little fresh air in, today I got a small whiff of something better on the horizon.

Maybe it was spending 30 minutes with the au pair watching "The Wedding Date", seeing Dermot Mulroney (HOT!) almost kiss Debra Messing, and having her smile for the first time in a week or two. Maybe it was a call from a friend or two. Maybe it was that the rental car I'm driving only costs $70 for the week, while the other car is in limbo. Maybe it's that the au pair not only got comfortable driving the minivan, but actually seems to prefer it. Or that my youngest son today was happy and cooperative and wanted to learn Portuguese. Maybe it's that, like my friend, I slipped easily into clothing I haven't worn in years and have to say, I look pretty darn good in it. Maybe it was a small glimpse of Mt. Rainier and sunshine this morning, before the clouds took over. Maybe it's talking with my in-laws and realizing I married into a pretty good family.

Work is a bitch, but that is to be expected in my chosen field right now. At least it's predictable, unlike what my husband is dealing with.

I guess I'm saying we're all alive, healthy, fed, clothed and sheltered . . . with a whole lot more.

Maybe I can find my way to that open window today, and breathe in the fresh air.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Not So Alone

For whatever reason, this last month or so has been a tough one. It should be getting easier; after all, we're past the halfway point of DrChako's deployment. I should be happy. I mean really - who sits around at 4:55 p.m. on a Thursday, moping about how crappy the last 4 days of work have been when you're almost ready to go home and only have one day in the workweek left? (For those of you in public accounting, like me, I know this is barely the halfway point of the workweek - I'm trying to appeal to a wider audience here).

But its been the toughest so far. The kids have never seemed more unpredictable and irrational. I don't think I've fully adjusted to having this new person live in my house. The empty bed seems emptier. Work just keeps getting tougher. Friend have emotional events. Family members pass away. Cars get totaled. My patience is just about at its limits.

Then my selfish, self-pitying ass gets kicked by a few people at just the right time.

Sometimes, it is Falstaff, who, touched by the tragedy of worldwide events that hits a little closer to our hearts, takes a moment to send a wish out to my hubby.

Sometimes it is a comment, or personal e-mail from BamBam at exactly the right time.

Sometimes it is CC, who has chosen to spend his own personal mental energy to involve himself in our day to day struggles and concerns, offering up spiritual guidance on a day where it is most needed. Or providing suggestions for me to steal a car, rather than buy another used one.

Sometimes it is Betty, a kindred soul in many ways, who has touched me with her writing and reached out to me with the personal, girly communications I need to make me feel like I'm normal too. Our first drink together will be on me.

And sometimes it is just the whole community of you goofballs and having someone else's perspectives to look forward to each day.

So thank you.

Now excuse me, I think I need to go buy (steal?) a used car.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Post Party Let Down . . .

Just wrapped up a big party at my house for some of the folks who work for me. They've become and expectation. Couple times a year, I lay out a spread of easy to eat meats, cheeses, veggies, fruit, chips, and my homemade guacamole (which, if I do say so myself, is fabulous). Throw in a sufficient supply of wine, beer, soda, and some desserts, and we could eat all night.

We also throw in the standard Texas Hold 'Em home game. I work with a few Mormons, so to keep things fair and fun, we usually have one practice round, or we play a free round and I throw in a "winner-takes-all" prize, like a movie or gift card or something fun, so its not technically gambling. Then we add on a money round (or two, if we have time).

It was a great party, all around - folks had fun, enjoyed the games, although I bubbled both times - both times got rivered, by the less experienced player who was behind. But still had fun.

Now, I'm left with my post-party house. The beer buzz is wearing off, the friends are gone, the kitchen needs cleaning. And I still don't have a new car for the au pair.

And I go to bed alone.

Just FYI, this is getting old.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Friday, January 4, 2008

No Straight Jacket Yet . . .

I took Betty's advice and slept. Got about 6 hours straight. When I went to fall asleep, I thought I would have trouble - then I got those massive sleep twitches that jerk you awake before you're even aware you've fallen asleep. They would impress even my husband, the king of the sleep twitch.

The dreams were harsh. But the rest was needed.

Today, I'm left with two kids who are being amazingly helpful. Son #1 fed Son #2 breakfast so I could take him to preschool. Last night, Son #1 gave the au pair her juice in his prized light-up Rainforest Cafe cup. They have empathy.

But I'm left with one "kid" who's still shaken up. Still doesn't understand. Wants a mother, not an employer. Needs more of me than I think I have time or energy to give. Thinks she's dying. Doesn't seem to trust me when I say she's going to hurt like hell for a few days but then will get better.

And I'm left with one more thing on my ever-growing "To Do" list - buy a new car. Estimate to repair is more than I paid - can't imagine the insurance company is going to do anything but total it.

So instead of shopping for shoes or clothes or jewelry (which my husband knows I'm too frugal to buy anyway), I'll be haggling with used car dealers all weekend.

Oh well - at least I can be a bitch and be justified.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Yeah, What He Said

To expound on my husband's brevity . . .

Being the only responsible adult for said children and nanny on the continent - scary.

Doing it on 3 hours of sleep - insane.

God, or someone, give me patience and sanity.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Sleepless in Seattle

It's 3:48 a.m. in Seattle. Why, you ask, is this of significance?

Because I am awake. No, I have not been awake all night. I actually tried to go to bed. I woke up an hour ago and have not been able to get back to sleep.

I've tried tweezing stray leg hairs. I did push ups and crunches. I thought about reading, but would have to start a new book, as I just finished my last one. I read my horoscope. I read my one new e-mail. I thought about my son's trick of drinking warm milk, but that makes me sick.

So I'm here, writing this post, and PO'd. Because the only thing I like better than, say, the obvious things (diamonds, massages, dark-haired exotic movie stars) . . . is sleep.

Yesterday was the start of my "official" busy season. I worked in the office until 8:30 p.m. last night, came home, and put in another couple hours of work. I NEED my sleep.

Instead, I'm sitting here wide awake.

Just call me "Sleepless In Seattle" - tomorrow (tonight?) you'll probably be calling me "Exhausted".

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

No Words

Professional relationships often morph into personal relationships of one form or another. I'm a caring manager, I think, and a woman, and a mom . . . I have more than my share of people who come to me in their time of personal crises, looking for someone who genuinely cares.

I have been a sounding board for a colleague. Dealing with an unexpected pregnancy. An unexpected life commitment. The uncertainty. The fear. The obligation. There were only two choices in their mind . . . termination or marriage. Termination was unacceptable. They faced their inevitable choice, even though it wasn't the preferred choice of either party, because they thought it was the right and honorable thing to do.

This morning, I learned that nature made a different decision for them. Maybe, someday, they will come to see this as a blessing. Tomorrow, they will face difficult decisions about their relationship, their future. Today, however, they just suffer a loss.

And I have no words for them.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

The List

Being that today is the start of the new year, I should be making resolutions. However, I'm not much of a resolution kind of girl; I'm a planner, for sure, but I'm big on having some long-term life goals, and then a series of short, intermediate steps to get there. Why tie yourself down to the Julian calendar? I'm Jewish anyway . . . my "new year" started a few months ago.

So what will I do today, then, to start off 2008? Today, I update my "List". You may call it "The List", the "Laminated List", the "Get Out of Jail Free List" (thanks, Kat) . . . whatever name it goes by, its still the same. You know, those 1, 5, 10 . . . whatever the number is . . . people for whom no permission is necessary should they proposition you with extramarital sex. And I know I just updated it in November. But its 2008. New year.

You talk to newly married couples and both will feign indignance - what kind of marriage could you have that you would ever permit your spouse to be unfaithful? You talk to old married couples and they can rattle off their own list, rattle off their spouse's list, and probably discuss the last 5 years worth of comers and goers to their respective lists.

I think we had one or two of those blissful years of ignorance. Then, we both became practical people. So we had a serious discussion and set the ground rules. (A) Only famous ** people - no one from the office or anything too close and personal. (B) Only 5 people on the list at a time. I don't know, does 10 make you a slut, but 5 is socially acceptable infidelity? It really just seemed like a good number, so we went with it. (C) Any updates to the list must be communicated timely (i.e., before said infidelity takes place). There are no retroactive adjustments to the list ex post facto.

So to start 2008, I propose to update my list for all to see.
  1. Hugh Jackman
  2. Antonio Banderas
  3. Jason Statham
  4. Johnny Depp
  5. Maksim Chmerkovskiy (Mel B's partner on "Dancing With The Stars")

On reserve, just in case I need to update quickly, are (in no particular order)

  • Murilo Benicio ("Woman on Top")
  • Oded Fehr
  • Clive Owen
  • John Cusack *
  • Edward Norton *
(If you are not on this list, meet said criteria **, and wish to be on it, you are welcome to leave me a comment and I will consider amending said list at some point in the future so as not to violate the "ex post facto" rule.)

Less than 4 months 'til the hubby is home . . . and his workout schedule has left him pretty buff, based on his last picture. Bring on the propositions, boys . . . I might be busy in April!

Until then, your shoes are welcome under my bed.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

* Editor's addition - how could I have forgotten

** Editor's clarifcation: Thank you, Betty, for your insight. Although we have not scripted out the exact definition of "famous", I believe, for purposes of this list, that "famous" would NOT included any bloggers, internet degenerates, or anyone else my husband would consider "close and personal". Even A-listers. Unless you become President or a famous movie star or buy a professional sports team or something else that qualifies you.