Shhhhhrrrrrreeeeeddddddd. Ded.

He's gonna kill me.


But -  I couldn't resist.  And he did let me take the picture, so that's some type of implied consent, right?  
He even looked at it and made me retake it.


The other morning, ThatManILove took a shower, grabbed a pair of underwear from the stack, and put them on.  


I heard him say, "These feel weird."

I turned around, laughed, and of course, as all good wifeys do, I grabbed the camera.


Zanna the Wonderdog LOVES anything ThatManILove.  She's addicted.  To his stuff, and to shredding.

The even weirder thing?  That Martha, the lady who helps us clean and do laundry, folded these suckers and put them in his underwear drawer.  SURELY she recognized they weren't "quite right"...


It's never boring around here!

Holy Butt Cramp

My butt is taking me back to a conversation I had yesterday at the gym.

Trainer:  Your backside and legs are going to be sore tomorrow from all this workout.

Me:  I’ll try not to whine too much.  I'm getting better at working through it!

Fast forward to today:

Ouuuuuchhhhhh! 

Reds and Rods (3, That Is) - Fishing the Kenai For Reds - Part 5 of the "North, to Alaska!" Series

Rod and Steve on the Kenai River

I met Rod in February at our company's executive leadership meeting in San Antonio.  I had heard he was the man to know in Alaska.  Rod told me he'd "hook" us up, just to give him the dates and he would introduce us to people in the know regarding fishing, accommodations, etc.

He dang sure did do everything he promised, and more!  We have had such a good time.  Between Rod and his Denise, and Ron & Denise Maddox of Eagle Head Cabins, we couldn’t have asked for a better vacation.  They pretty much slam-dunked the best concierge service we’ve ever had.  And that’s saying a lot, because we are no strangers to five star hotels.

Rod, setting up our rods.

Rod and Denise came and joined us one afternoon at the cabins, bringing their drift boat and equipment.  Rod and ThatManILove grilled supper - Rod grilled salmon he had caught that afternoon, and TMIL grilled tenderloin. Delectable!  It was amazing, and Ron and Denise, the Eagle Head Cabins proprietors, joined us for supper, along with Anna, another coworker of Rod’s and mine.  We had so much fun!  Rod and Denise stayed in one of the cabins, and we were up and about at 4:00 a.m. the next morning. Waders, rain gear, lunches packed, ready to go...and off we went, to the Kenai River to fish for reds.

Denise, up on the steep bank!

ThatManILove with his first red.

I was a little hesitant, since I bunged up my left knee (I broke my right knee in the 90’s) but put a brace on it and roped up.

We floated down the Kenai to Rod and Denise’s favorite fishing hole, dropped anchor, and he and Denise began to teach us how to fish for reds.

Now, every day, we learned a different technique - one for halibut, one for King Salmon, and now, this technique for reds.  We were all in the water - I, up to my waist.  The scenery and the river were absolutely beautiful.  The sun would come out, then go back into the clouds, then back out again.  It was a very peaceful, beautiful place.

Starbucks, baby.  A great fishing tool.

I could feel the cold, but knew I wasn’t wet - I had on waders!  It was cool.  Until I heard this:  “Oh, s***!”  I looked to my right, and ThatManILove had this look on his face.  I only wondered what had happened for a minute - because he confessed to Rod. 

“I broke your rod!” he said.  Rod laughed, gave him another one, and put him back to fishing.  He had snagged his rod, grabbed it higher than the reel, and put undue pressure on it trying to wiggle it loose.  Rod told him the rods had lifetime warranties, that it happened all the time.

I quickly (well, that’s my story, anyway) caught on to the casting, reeling in, recasting, getting unsnagged (I mastered that one without breaking any rods!).  I worked at it for about an hour, and then, I realized I was really cold.  

The bank was steep, and due to that knee brace, ThatManILove had to  help me get up the bank.  I was almost all the way up when I slipped...and promptly slid down the bank, on my stomach, right back into the water. Go ahead - you can laugh - I did! I didn’t fall, though, landed on my feet, but I was done with that cold water. I rigged it down, right then and there.

I finally made it into the boat, and couldn’t feel my toes.  I was so cold, but after an hour or so, I started warming up.

Rod, Denise and ThatManILove started catching fish.  Rod let me bring some of them in, it was so much fun!  That “whiiiiirrrrrrr” of the line going out when that fish would run, then the fun of bringing them into the net that Rod was holding.  My new favorite sound.   Oh, my gosh.  You have to try it!!

There is nothing prettier than an angler bringing in a fish, especially if that fish tries to run or fights.  It’s absolutely beautiful, that intricate dance of the angler and the fish.


I've decided that Rod is just as much an expert teacher as he is an expert fisherman.  He spent just as much time helping us and training us as he did fishing, himself.  I hope your first experience fishing is with someone as patient and caring as are Rod and Denise.  They truly want to help you learn to fish, and want you to love the sport as much as they!

Denise got into the boat, and I filmed and took photos.  We had the best time visiting and learning about each other and our families.  Every once in a while, I would shift positions trying to get my knee more comfortable.  I would say, “I feel water running down my leg.”

TMIL:  “Honey, you’re just cold.  I promise, you’re not wet.”

About that time?  He fell.  Those big rocks are s.l.i.c.k., and with the current running fast, it’s easy to lose your balance.  

Immediately, he knew water had come into his waders.  And that water?  Is about 40 degrees.  COLD.  Real COLD.

He’s tough, though, he kept fishing.  They fished and they fished until they had their limits.  It was awesome.

We had such a good time, laughing, telling stories, cheering the anglers on - it was yet another amazing moment in our lives.

ThatManILove decided he was really cold, yet all the while, he was telling me “you’re not wet, Janie - you’re just cold.”

We got to the dock, loaded up the boat, and went to get our vehicles.  I stripped out of those waders, and was wet up to my waist. My clothes were simply soaked.  I had been wet for hours.  Evidently, my waders had a leak.  I knew it, but was willing to be wrong!

Everybody felt so bad, and I think they decided I was a toughie, going through all that cold for the hours I did!  But you, my faithful readers, know I’m no quitter!

ThatManILove and Rod went into Soldotna to drop off our catch for processing, and Denise and I ran back to the cabin so I could change.  Ran is a relative term.  At one point, I looked down, and I was going almost 80mph.  I told Denise, “Whoa.  I better slow down!  I’m so cold, I was driving like I was in Texas.”

About that time, I looked back, and saw an Alaskan State Trooper coming up behind me, lights flashing.  

Hopeful, I pulled over...”Maybe he’s going to pass me!”

Heck, no!  I’m now the lucky recipient of an Alaskan Calling Card -  thank God he reduced the ticket a little bit - over a certain (55) amount, the fines double!  So, I’ll be calling the Kenai judge tomorrow and begging for deferred adjudication or defensive driving - don’t want that bad boy on my record.

We got to the cabin, changed clothes, and met the guys in Soldotna for supper.  We also drove to view Rod and Denise’s beautiful lakefront lot they had purchased on Brown’s Lake.  I’m so excited for them.  It's absolutely breathtaking.  

And blessed? ThatManILove and I are so very blessed for that 10 minute introduction Rod and I had in San Antonio - I think ThatManILove and I have gained some new lifetime friends.

So, if you ever get the chance to go fish the Kenai for reds, do so!  It’s worth every minute.  The scenery is beautiful, and the fish - they’re yummy!

Oh, yeah - I forgot to tell you one thing.  ThatManILove ended up breaking yet another rod on this same day.  Rod was so gracious, laughing again, telling TMIL not to worry about it.  I, however, changed TMIL’s name from Salmon Steve to Destructo Steve!


You know the drill - it’s never boring around here!


Rod and Denise - thank you so much for giving your time and resources to ensure we had a great time in your beautiful state.  Thanks for introducing us to Ron and Denise and Anna.  We've truly been blessed by all of you.


Gentle readers - get thyself to Alaska!!  You will so love it there!  And yes...as much as this Texan hates to admit it - Alaska is BIGGER!

Fish ON!

Mattress Sandwich

Bear with me as I post another rerun from early 2010 in my seemingly eternal quest to get the funny stuff moved over to the new blog:

Elder Son was in the area, roping with friends, and jumped truck at Lubbock.  So, Thursday night found us picking him up there, and bringing him home for the weekend.  We tarried too long, and got home to Midland around midnight.  Then we picked up a bit for the housecleaners, and went to bed.

Unbeknownst to me, ThatManILove had gone on a cleaning of the bedroom spree earlier that day.  Our bed - a Big Huge California King Sleigh Bed - was pulled out from the wall. I commented on such, and TMIL confessed to tackling the dust demons under and behind the bed.  (Such things are obviously beyond our house cleaners, but I digress.)

We pushed the bed back up against the wall, and got in bed.  Immediately, Zack the Wonderdog jumps in the bed, and demands to be “under his blankie.”  (Which is, by the way, a blanket on top of our comforter.)  This action places him right around where my knees go in the bed.  

And, voila!  Zack snuggles down in the bed, deep mooooaaaannnns of delight, and immediately starts snoring.

ThatManILove looks at me, and says, “Need me to move Zack?”  I tell him no, that I’ll move over closer to him.  I snuggle up to him for a second, then tell him, “Wait.  This isn’t going to work.  I have to be able to stick my foot out of the bed if it gets warm.”

(I know.  Don’t even say it.  That’s what hormones do to you when you’re my age.)

So, I skooch back over to my side of the bed, and we move Zack to the middle.  He never wakes up.  We lay back down.

And immediately hear this weird deep moaning sound.  Loud.  Louder. And then the moan escalates, both in volume and up an octave or two.  We’re looking at Zack, then realizing it’s not him, at each other.  I’ve got chill bumps on my arms.  Do we have a freakin’ ghost? Is Zanna having a bad dream?  Oh, Lord!  Is the air conditioner kicking the bucket?   (You’d be amazed at the thoughts that shoot through your brain in a second or two)

And then...

BAMMMMMMM!  CRASH!HHH!  BOOM!

The.

Bed.

Craters.

And all three of us - ThatManILove, Zack, and myself - all roll into a Deep V that now suffices for our top mattress.

I immediately start giggling.  ThatManILove - cussing.  

And Zack?  Still snuffling and snoring away.  He doesn’t even wake up.

Thank God Elder Son was around.  We have one of those Denver Mattresses, and baby, a California King top mattress ain’t light.

We move the upper mattress to determine the extent of the damage.  Guess what supports a California King Denver Mattress, under the twin box springs?

Three 2X2 slats.  Screwed into the frame.  And attached to each of them, a  3X3 leg. Two of which had bent when ThatManILove went into his cleaning frenzy,  causing the bed to lose support and the slats to break in half.

We wedged them back up, supported them (with all those books I’ve promised you I’d give away on my blog), put the mattress back on and ThatManILove went back to sleep.

That was a miracle in itself, that he could sleep through my laughter and snorts - but I finally quit laughing long enough to go to sleep.

Ppppppppprocrastination...

ThatManILove is out on a job.  I could swear he said he’d be home early today, and was wondering what we might be able to do over the holiday weekend before I went back to work.  

I told him the quicker he returned to the house, the quicker he could finish painting the kitchen and we could get away.  I could get some out of town clothes shopping done since I’ve just dumped almost my entire closet...and aren’t there some major New Year’s Day sales? 

I emailed him for his status mid-morning, and he said he now has to stay overnight and will be back home tomorrow.

Guess I’ll go run errands and get my chores done.  Like my expense account.  And my personnel evaluation.  Fun stuff like that. You know, stuff I need to do prior to year end anyway.  Stuff I’ve been putting off.  

Maybe my New Year 2011 resolution will be to quit procrastinating.

Or maybe I should reserve that for New Years 2012.  What do y'all think?

Crazy Stuff Happens in Oklahoma

I promised to post some of the funny stuff that happened while we were in Oklahoma, so here goes.

One night last week in Tulsa, we decided to go to the Hard Rock Casino for a couple of hours.  A friend, Doug, was in town, so we picked him up at his hotel.  We all made promises to each other we’d only stay for a couple of hours.  I already said that, didn’t I?

Yeah.  Doug doesn’t even like to gamble, and just went to spend time with us.

We don’t gamble often, nor do we stake big bucks.  I don’t play table games.  ThatManILove doesn’t play slots.  So, we’re often apart once we’re in the casino.

Doug would go hang out with ThatManILove, then he’d come play some quarter slots with me.

I quickly got tired, and so did Doug.  We agreed we’d go rescue ThatManILove and go back to our respective hotels, so to the tables we went.  We quickly found ThatManILove, so started watching.

The blackjack dealer won’t let a bystander hang around long, and ThatManILove was on a mini-roll.  I turned to the quarter machines right behind the table, so that once Doug talked him into leaving, I’d be right there.

Doug comes over to my machine, and we play together for a minute.  Then, Doug says, “I’m gonna go get some of his drink.”  

Fade back about five years.  We’re in Las Vegas, with friends.  Serious gambling friends, the kind that know what they’re doing and do it well.  It’s been a long night, I’m major bucks ahead, so I tell ThatManILove I’m going to bed.  He’s not been doing well, all night - our friends have been teasing him that the ATM machine is NOT a slot machine.

I go to bed, and several hours later, ThatManILove wakes me up.  He’s a little under the weather, and figured out that the waitress kept topping off their bloody marys without permission.  At that point, he decides he’s never going to drink and gamble.  

Back to Doug.  I said, “ThatManILove doesn’t drink!”  Doug said, “Okay.  I’ll be back.” And back he comes, with ThatManILove’s drink.  He said, “We’re sharing.”  I said, “Ooookkkaaaayyyy.”  We laugh.  I’m ready to go, but Doug keeps telling me ThatManILove is on a roll.  There’s lots of activity at the table, laughing, whooping, so I acquiesce.

And then Doug says, “I didn’t know ThatManYouLove smokes.”  I say, “He doesn’t!”  Doug grins, and says, “Really?  Look!”

Sure enough, ThatManILove is dangling a lit cigarette from his fingers.  Foiled again.

Finally, we leave.  I’m driving, as it’s obvious that once again, that waitress, who must have migrated from Vegas to Oklahoma, has been surreptitiously topping off ThatManILove’s drink.

We get to the Renaissance, which is a square shaped hotel.  We go up to the Club floor, to get water for our room.  We get back to the elevator bank, which opens up to a big waiting area.  We’re waiting for our elevator, and ThatManILove is talking, talking, talking.  I’m trying to keep him quiet for the other sleeping guests, which only leads to a lot of giggling and laughing between us. 

I take a step back, and he takes a step forward, still talking.  I decide to give it a test. I take another couple of steps back, and he matches me.  It’s like we’re perfectly matched...we could have been on Dancing With The Stars.  I back some more,  and he follows me all across the waiting room, until we’ve completed a perfect figure eight, finalizing our little impromptu dance in the elevator.

We get to our room before I crack up laughing and explained to him what he’d done.

He loved it, and has laughed about it ever since!

I love this man - this man who doesn’t ever drink when he gambles, and who certainly would never smoke in a casino!

Men and Directions...

I absolutely, positively have to get ThatManILove a GPS. Oh, 


wait!! He has one IN HIS TRUCK!!!! Hello, honey? You know, 


you're not driving the Powerstroke anymore, right? 




You can put that town in LaToya's NavGav and you won't have 


to call the Janie aka "MapquestItForMeHoneyWillYou Hotline" 


anymore.

Toga! Toga! Toga!

If you follow me on Facebook, you will at least know part of this story.  The part where on November the 13th, or so, we were invited to our first Toga party to honor one of our friends for her 50th birthday party.  It was a surprise party.

I have never been invited to a toga party.  Nor had ThatManILove.  We vacillated about going, but in the end, our love for the honoree won out, and we cowboyed up and decided to take the plunge, as it were.

We live in West Texas, so I figured EVERYBODY would do a cowboy toga.  I wanted to be different.  Saturday morning of the party, I had a brain wave - possibly my first original thought.  We decided to go gothic Toga.  I researched on the web, and as far as I can tell, no one had ever done that, or at least posted pix on it.  

I thought it was a great idea!   We were gonna go goth toga!!  Oh, yes, we were!!  Once convinced (I am a salesperson after all!), ThatManILove let me have my way with him.  I painted his nails black.  Put eyeliner and black lipstick on him.  Died his hair with temporary hair color....black all over, except for red sideburns and at his temples.  He looked quite distinguished.  Earlier in the day, he acquiesced to go shop at Hot Topic to get all the studded bracelets, hair dye, collars, funky earrings, etc.  while I went and got the black fabric, crowns, fake tattoos. The “etc.” ThatManILove picked up at Hot Topic even included a dog chain leash.  (I said, "Honey.  A Leash?  Ummmm...there might be a fine line between gothic and S&M, and you may have crossed it with that leash/collar deal - but we were the hit of the party!)  He even spray-painted a pair of his steel toe boots black so as to further look the part.  He did ALL of this on one condition  - that he would dress up anyway I wanted if I would promise that I would have him back to regular status by Monday, when he had a 5 day frac job out in the field. And I did promise, and deliver.  Well, I thought I did, anyway.

Here are pictures.  Mind you, these were taken at the end of our night, as we were leaving.  Which was imperative because my careful design of my husband's toga FAILED.  Miserably. At first, I wasn't worried, because I thought the pants he had on underneath were ski pants.  He quickly informed me they were the silk underwear you wear UNDER ski pants, and thus were somewhat...revealing.  We gathered our gear to leave post-haste.  Here, he is holding what is left of his toga.  But he's cute, isn't he?

But now, here’s the part two of this story.

It’s been six weeks since that Toga party.  Six weeks, people.  Last Friday, we drove from Dallas to Ardmore to see Elder Son and meet all his cowboy horse trainer compadres.  We decide to meet at a local eatery called Two Frogs.  (It was good, too!)  It was a grey, dreary kind of day, misting a little bit.  We all drive up at the same time, and Elder Son is walking in with us, after we all get the requisite hugs.  

Elder Son:  “Dude.  What’s up with your hair?”  The cowboys are walking up to meet us in the parking lot about now.

TMIL:  “What do you mean?  I just got it cut.”

Elder Son:  “No, I mean, why is your hair pink?”

TMIL:  “My hair is not pink!”

Elder Son:  “Yeah?  Looked in the mirror lately?”

I looked over at ThatManILove, and about busted a gut laughing.  I couldn’t stand up.  I had a hard time meeting the people we were there to meet, because I couldn’t see for the tears running down my face.

People, I live with this man!  And granted, he’s been out in the field a bunch, and home rarely, I didn’t see that his sideburns still carried a tint (though very becoming) of pink...left over from the “temporary” red hair color.  Six weeks later.  And our hairdresser didn’t even say a word about it.  

Six. Weeks. Later.

I kid you not.

And we’re meeting all these rough and tough cowboys, one of them a world-renown horse trainer, for the very first time.  So much for good first impressions.

I absolutely could not quit laughing.  Elder Son was just shaking his head.  So, of course, I had to confess that we went to a (1) toga party, as (2) gothic emo peeps, complete with (3) black nail polish, goth makeup, studded bracelets and dog collars, AND show pictures. 

The first thing they all hooked on?  The dog chain hooked to ThatManILove’s studded collar. 

Well, it could have been worse.  At least they didn’t call him sweet cheeks or something like that.

These rough and tough cowboys could have been like the lady at the Starbucks window the Sunday morning following the toga party.  ThatManILove, every Sunday, goes and gets us burritos, a Sunday paper, and Starbucks.  And when he handed his money through the drive-through window, our  sweet barista, who knows us by name, said one thing when she saw his black-painted fingernails.

“What the hell?”

He was so embarrassed that we went straight to the nail salon and got all that stuff taken off pronto.

It’s never boring around here.  


(PS - Jack, don't you even think about making him some kind of freaking bit/bridle.  This was a one-time gig.  Savvy, senor?)

Yeah, baby, it's all still there.  Now let's get the hell outa Dodge.  Vamanos por las casa, senor!