Honk If Your Husband Makes You Crazy

It's but on rare occasion that I will publicly talk smack about my husband, but today is going to give you a little glimpse into the chaotic, and sometimes hilarious lives of Florida Girl and Mr. Florida Girl.

A little about us:

I am fast girl. Fast, fast, fast, let's get a move on. I can get my kids dressed, fed, and out the door in twenty minutes.

My husband is slow and methodical. He's side-tracked easily and needs time to think all things through properly before taking action. Needless to say, I wouldn't hold your breath if you're waiting on him to dress, feed, and/or do anything with the children.

So this morning, stopped at the traffic light near our house, we were the third vehicle in line for a left turn. The arrow changes to green and no one moves. After a few seconds I'm all, "Give 'em a honk." Of course my husband DOES. NOT. WANT. TO. He is totally anti-honking. He is emphatic in his belief that "Honking means I'm here'." In my book honking could mean that, and/or it could mean, "Pay attention dumbass." or "The light is green, freaking go!"

We're still at the light, no one is turning-- my husband gently gives the horn a little peck, such a little tap that no actual sound is made. And the reality is that there is just no way in hell he's going to honk the effing horn. Finally, shocked the light hasn't turned red yet, I lean over and lay it on the horn. And guess what, the cars turned. No one was mad, no one got out of their car and came after us, no one even gave us the finger. Unfortunately, though it was all in good fun, my husband did not at all appreciate my helping him with the horn, I think his exact words were, "Don't ever touch the steering wheel when I'm driving!".

Later this afternoon, we were the first car stopped at a light. My husband didn't notice the light had turned green, and we were honked at. Now personally, if I don't notice the greenage, I hope someone honks at me, because I want to get where I'm going, and as quickly as possible. And when it's all said and done, I knew he was glad they honked too.

And I'm hoping that today's events will change his honkin' attitude, but if not, if he continues to not honk when honking is required, I will lean over, and I will honk that horn, even though it makes him so incredibly angry... because that's how I roll, and I think it's kind of fun in a bizarre, perverse way.

**Update: My husband just said it's my horn's fault, for being too hard to honk.
Apparently, he would have honked it-- if he could have.

Big Daddy

You are their world,
their calm and clarity.

Sitting on your lap,
hearing your voice,
your hands bigger than their heads,
keeping them warm and protecting them,
they sit in awe of you,
and you in awe of them.

You are an even more wonderful father than I had imagined you would be.
Happy Fathers Day Big Daddy.

By the way it was really fun watching Zach and Miri Make A Porno with you last night, that was crazy funny.

Five years o' Daddy:

He's Just Not that into you Dave

Before moving to Sydney I had never been to an IKEA. We had never lived around one and funny enough as soon as we moved to Australia they opened a huge IKEA near our house in Florida; we've still never been to that one.

When it's time to go to IKEA we get a babysitter, because IKEA without small children is just so so much better-- it's like a big day out for us-- Date Day.

Last time we hauled ourselves out to IKEA, we picked up a new Swedish friend named Dave. One thing led to anothr and we decided to take him home with us; he could stay in the family room-- which he did, for about a month. Then one night, I brought him upstairs. He was only supposed to be coming up for a few minutes, but from that night on he basically moved into our bedroom.

After about a month, when I realized how much Dave meant to me and how much I loved having him in our bedroom I began telling my husband that he should totally get in on the Dave action. He was all-- yeah, yeah, at some point I will. And then that day came, and he did it for a few nights, but I think it's safe to say, he's just is not as into Dave as I am.

.
Dave, I love you... and if loving you is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

Note: Dave is the table in the photo, not the man. (I don't actually know that man).

Date Night- Martinis and Dangerous Fried Rice

The Hubs and I went to dinner last night at our new favorite Chinese restaurant in Woolloomooloo. Woolloomooloo is a suburb near us and I like to go there just so I can say the word Woolloomooloo repeatedly. Whatever.

So for a city with such a large Asian population you'd think there would be an insane number of Chinese restaurants, and there are a ton of Thai joints-- I'm not sure what the deal is with Chinese restaurants, but I'll move on...

I get this lychee martini drink, it's pretty good, not nearly as delicious as the Australian Watermelon Bacardi Breezer we had had the night before which tasted exactly like a drink we used to make (back in the day) by dissolving Watermelon Jolly Ranchers in Absolute Vodka. Omigod, it's 1989 all over again, yeah dawg.

So we order these awesome Peking Duck-ish-like appetizer, and btw, in Australia they call "appetizers" entrees... it's all very confusing.

The food at this place is seriously amazing, and we ordered way too much-- including an order of prawn fried rice (all shrimp in Australia are referred to as "prawns" whilst in the U.S. "prawns" is usually reserved for the "big ass shrimp" Our dining strategy was to have leftover fried rice school lunchboxes tomorrow.

After dinner we ask our waitress for a "take away box", that's Australian for doggy bag (and I think if you asked for a "doggy bag" in Australia someone may actually slap you). Then we ask for the "bill" because they don't say "check" down under. The waitress looks at us all quizzical and disappointed, and asks with a sad face, "Was everything okay? You should make sure you eat the fried rice as soon as possible." So my Hubs and I look at each other like, what the hell is she talking about? And she's all, "Well, it's got seafood in it, and once cooked, seafood goes bad very quickly. I would recommend you eat it by lunch tomorrow." Um, is she serious? We're not sure.

A couple minutes later the cool breeze hostess brings with the bill and we decide to to ask her about the ticking time bomb (our shrimp fried rice). She, almost verbatim, confirms that we must eat it by tomorrow.

Am I just an absolute daredevil having eaten two day old seafood in my sorted past?

I just sent my husband an email:

Subject: Fried Rice

Hi honey,

Wanted to let you know, I'm eating the fried rice for breakfast. If you don't hear from me this afternoon you probably should be worried.

Love,
Me

I wonder what my Wii Fit trainer will have to say about the two pounds I just gained chowing down the bacteria-laden fried rice? I have a feeling she's not going to be happy.

The Pizza Delivery Man- Love Life Week Continues

I am considering keeping a wad of singles in my nightstand, so I can tip the pizza delivery man.
When this new pizza place opened, we started ordering pizza about twice a week.
When the pizza comes, my husband does the following:

• Goes downstairs and gets money
  
• Goes outside and pays for pizza
• Brings the pizza, plates, napkins, and drinks upstairs
• Carefully sets it all up in our bed
• Then clears it all away downstairs to the kitchen
  

Yes, he is my personal pizza delivery man. The Best Pizza Delivery Man in the World.

After the longest, most stressful day of my life, I'm lying in bed next to him, eating the last slices of a Sweet Chili Prawn Pizza, that obviously was the victim of a terrible chili powder spill. My mouth is burning like a mofo (and we are spicy food lovers, wtf? Maybe a handful of m & m's would wash it down?).

Anyway, I love you pizza delivery man... and I totally appreciate your speed and efficiency in bringing the spicy stuff to bed-- if ya know what I mean.

The rest of my day basically included my three year old having surgery to put tubes (grommets) in his ears and his adenoids removed. It was a horrible day at the hospital complete with blood and vomiting. I have to go to sleep before I relive it all in words right now, which I really cannot do.

11:49 PM Friday night- I'm out.