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

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

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

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.

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?"

"Beavers."

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 msn.com. 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