Apparently, I’m high maintenance.  I never really thought of myself as high maintenance, but then I started realizing that the signs are all there.  If you read my blog about my strange eating habits (There’s Always a Food Critic in the Donner Party), then you’ve already a few examples.  Clearly, I’m OCD to the bone.  I like to think it’s not a disorder, rather just an order.  I like things a certain way.  D-Train and I used to always make fun of Frameo when we all lived together in Denver.  We would put a candy wrapper on the mantle and sit down and count to see how long it would take him to notice it.  I say count, because he’s that obsessive – usually it was one to two minutes.  His record was about 20 seconds.  I mention this because I’ve noticed I’m that way.  I seem to be spending my day organizing everything and then organizing everything again.  I can’t ever seem to get the sink clean enough.

The Big Guy and Mama J constantly make fun of my Dish Washing Methodology^tm.  Even Auntie Willie^® (New nickname for The Wife’s Aunt!  Thanks NAN! yay) chimes in.  You’d think she’d be all so happy to have me scrubbing her dishes on Thanksgiving night, but instead, she’s standing there ribbing me because in Cabo, I asked her to take my white linen shirt off so it wouldn’t get stained.  I guess that was an odd request for Auntie Willie^®, who by the way made the best Dutch Apple Pie I’ve had. The Big Guy will wait until I have the clean sink water at the perfect temperature and then stick a dirty dish in the water, soiling it completely.  He once said that if I continued to clean his dishes, he’d have to buy new one’s because I would have cleaned them to the bone.  I disagree – you can’t clean dishes that much.  Other times, he’ll walk over in the middle of cleaning and stick a dish with food on it in the dish washer. Let me be clear, dishwashers are mis-named.  They should be called “Dish Sanitizers” because that’s what they do.  They don’t get the food off – I don’t care what anyone says.  The wife just rolls her eyes at the discussion.

Note: If you’re looking for a new Dish Sanitizer, go with Hobart.  It’s not pretty, but it’s the way a Dish Sanitizer should be.

Hobart Under Counter Dish "Sanitizer"

Lately, I’m feeling a little bad for The Wife.  She’s been getting in trouble for a lot of things around the house.  Here’s a few examples of my wrath:

1. She’ll often stick things like wine bottle toppers, spoons and forks, and other small items in the sink where the disposal lives.  After an evening of use, these items will almost always find a home in the disposal.  After a heavy night of entertaining, I’ll conclude my Dish Washing Methodology^tm by turning on the disposal, only do listen to sounds like she put a body in down the sink.  I’ll just shoot her a glare and go the Mud Room for some quiet time.
2. Donnie Boom Boom was in town last week and he asked for the strawberry jam.  When he opened it, there was peanut butter mixed in with it because when The Wife makes a PB&J sandwich, she uses the same knife for the peanut butter and the jam.  Mud Room Cool Off Time.
3. I have this new obsession with drying out the sink when I’m done doing the dishes.  I’ll often spend a lot of time drying it, then walk into another room, only to hear the sink running in the kitchen.  I’ll walk back in and there she is running the sink to wash her hands.  I think to myself, “Isn’t there a bathroom for that?”  Again, Mud Room Cool Off Time.
4. A couple of weeks ago, The Wife’s advertising agency needed to burrow some of my swimming trunks for a video shoot.  Now, when I heard this, I thought “Nice. They’re going to display them and film them with some words over them and some other items for the commercial”.  I pulled my best three pair of board shorts and tied the strings really nicely for display.  The next day, The Wife sent me an email picture from the video shoot. I thought it was a pretty cool picture.  That is, until I noticed A good pair of green Hurley Boardshorts were being sported by some young chap riding a wave.  I was Frerking (big ups to The Greatest Vet of All Time, Dr. Thad Frerking) furious.  Once more, Mud Room Cool Off Time.

This is just a glimpse – it’s getting worse too.  The latest occurrence happened last night.  The last post, I mentioned I took a business trip to Las Vegas.  While I was there, I stayed with my good pal, Mike of Mike and Jersey Jen (from Michigan).  On Mike’s coffee table was a 944 Magazine and there, on the cover was the most beautiful angelic figure I’d seen since our wedding night.  That good looking woman turned out to be none other than My Girl, Giada De Laurentiis.  As many of you know, I have a Kitchen Crush on her.  While The Big Guy and Mama J were in town last week, I wanted to show the magazine article to The Big Guy, as I knew he too was a fan.  I asked The Wife where the 944 Magazine was and she replied that she had taken it to work to show one of the partners.  Reaching boiling point…

…And to the Mud Room, I do retire…

944 Magazine Cover - Giada de Laurentiis

But it gets even worse.  Last night, as The Wife had returned from work, she thought I would be happy to have my Lovely back.  Don’t get me wrong, I was super excited.  But then, I noticed that the top corner of the cover of the magazine had a crease on it.  Holding back a nuclear fallout explosion, I calmly asked about it and she mentioned the partner had accidentally bent it when he was transporting it.  I’m not sure why it wasn’t taken out on a flatbed dolly.  At any rate, I just came out of the Mud Room.

Speaking of peanut butter and My Girl, Giada De Laurentiis, she and my other favorite freakshow author, Jen Lancaster, have some new competition.  While I was in Las Vegas, Mike of Mike and Jersey Jen (from Michigan) introduced me to his cousin, Eric and Eric’s wife, Julie.  Might I say, they were the most pleasant company.  Julie just happens to have a blog about cooking & baking.  Everything looks delectable!  Check it out at http://www.peanutbutterandjulie.com!

I just received word from Mike and Jersey Jen From Michigan.  They are joining LW (Liberty Wright – she’s single boys!) in a few weeks on a visit to Spokane.  I think that’s great.  Not that I don’t like hanging out with LW – she’s the easiest person to be around – but it’s always good times when the 5 of us get around each other.  Someone always becomes the butt of a joke.  Usually me.  I responded to her email that we (The gUrt & I, not The Wife because she’s hard at work) are so excited to see them.   I may have made mention that The gUrt “pooped his pants” with excitement.  Because the original email was to all 5 of us, and because I “responded to all”, The Wife quickly sent an email expressing her excitement and that we would “clean up the house.”  Now, to quote The Big Guy, “I was born at night, but not last night”. I’m well aware that The Wife’s response is directly related to her complete disappointment in my choice of excitement expression. Go Figure.

The funny thing about it is that:

A. The gUrt doesn’t wear pants and…

B. The gUrt hasn’t pooped in the house since the second night after he moved in.

When we first brought him home, I was walking downstairs after a 2 second run upstairs, only to find him in the “Catcher’s” position doing his business.  I have to say with all my voice strength, I let him know I was extremely dissatisfied with his activity at hand and quickly ushered him to the back yard.  He must have understood that we poop outside because from that day on, he poops outside.  Good Boy Hogan.  Peeing was a different story.  He once peed on D-Train’s foot. Good Boy Hogan.  I’m rambling.

I know I promised some fun Canadian adventures – they’re coming.  I thought I’d give everyone a vacation from my vacationing and provide a different topic for once.  Thanks to Devin for his last blog – I received some positive feedback on it.

Speaking of D-Train – also known as Danny-D to some or Dr. Nugget by others – I was recently catching up on his website, CravingBagels.com, and happened to stumble upon an excerpt he wrote about Miss King, his “lady friend” as he calls her.  They’re married.  Anyway, this excerpt is about how she is the most finicky eater he knows.  He mentions that she has different characteristics that make her finicky.  These are the one’s that stuck out to me:

• She likes her hamburgers plain.  Except at Effie Burger in Lewiston, ID, home of the largest gut bomb burger in the entire world.  You have to understand that for someone to not like anything on their burger, especially when it is a basic burger, and then to want EVERYTHING on her Effie Burger, it is pretty contradictory.  That’s like saying I don’t like dogs with hair, but then your favorite dog is an Old English Sheep Dog.
• There are certain foods she’ll only eat if D-Train cooks them.  If he cooks it too often, it’s ruined and she’ll never eat it again.
• She can taste “spiciness” in everything – even things with no spice in it.  For instance, she can taste spices in bottled water.
• She hate’s meat on the bone.

There’s too many to mention, but I thought, how hard to date?  It’s a wonder they made it solely on the basis that dating had to have been a struggle.  As I was reading this in the beginning, I kept thinking, what a freakshow. But, as I started finishing the story, I began to realize that I am also a very picky eater.  Just the other night, The Wife and I met her friend Sasha and her “not her boyfriend” boyfriend at Cafe Marron.  Cafe Marron is the cool little restaurant in Browne’s Addition in Spokane, a quaint, hip neighborhood.  This restaurant is really cool – it’s all reclaimed wood from barns and other buildings.  The windows are garage doors that are opened in the summer.  The chairs are school chairs.  The food is really good.  The first time we went there, they had this awesome Au Gratin Mac N’ Cheese.  It was TDF (To Die For – I had to make it an acronym because Ronnie Drama hated that phrase).  That was back in February or March during an International Date Night.  The next time, we went there with The SchreTters and low and behold – no Au Gratin Mac N’ Cheese.  I was tre’ disappointed.  So, I ordered this new dish – some sort of ToFu Stir Fry – again, slam dunk and TDF.  So, this last weekend, we met Sasha and her “not her boyfriend” boyfriend there and wouldn’t you believe it.  Not only was the Au Gratin Mac N’ Cheese not on the menu, but neither was the ToFu Stir Fry.  I was again let down.  This time, I spent the better part of 30 mintues mulling over the menu before reluctantly deciding on the hamburger.  I love hamburgers – my favorite food, but I’d had my World Famous Sliders, Canadian McDonald’s, Wendy’s and another burger within about 5 days.  It was just too much and there was nothing else appetizing.  You see, its rare that I pick up a menu that has multiple items I’d want.  Most of the time when we go to a place for the first time, I’m nervous they won’t have something I like.  I almost always find something and then every time we return, I order the same thing.

Brian - Pronghorn Antelope

I totally agree with her on the Meat on a bone thing.  I have a real hard time with it.  I think it’s because I have trouble eating things that I’ve seen moving.  At least when you buy a steak or hamburger meat, it’s processed to the point where it isn’t really recognizable.  I guess for me, the bone is a grim reminder to me of what I’m eating.  A leg, a rib, something like that.  At least when I eat a ribeye, I have no idea where on the cow it came from.  But I have trouble with it.  I’ll go fishing and then I have to leave the room when it’s being prepared so I won’t associate dinner with what I just caught.  Last year, I went hunting in Wyoming with The Big Guy, SoupUncle and his nephew.  I shot a Pronghorn Antelope and had it butchered and brought home the meat.  I also had the head mounted for the Office.  Why not, right?  I even named my Antelope.  Brian.  The problem with naming him Brian is that I already have issues with animal to food association.  Here I am, struggling to eat something I killed, and then I keep thinking of his name.  This makes it worse.  When I finally do get the mounted head, I’ll probably never be able to eat in the Office again.

This food issue has been tough since I was a kid.  I hate when my food touches.  I hate soggy bread.  You name it, I’m freakish about it.  I don’t think I would have done well with the Donner Party.  Well maybe, but only if the following occurred:

1. I visited the Donner Party – not traveled with them.  I couldn’t have any previous knowledge of people within the Donner Party who now account for empty seats at the table.
2. Everything would have to be cooked fresh and clean – I’m a germaphobe to the core.
3. Everything would have to be processed – if it looks like Barry, then I’m going to feel like I’m eating Barry.  If it’s processed like Bologna or String Cheese, then I’d be more likely to eat it with no remorse.
4. If everything could be packaged, that would be great.  Barry with Triscuits and Tillamook Cheese would be nice.  It would be even better if they could package Barry as a Lunchable.

New Barry ABBA Flavor

To read D-Train‘s Article, visit http://cravingbagels.com/?page_id=1498 – Good laughs for sure.  Don’t read too much or you’ll blow about 2 hours to about 6 days of non-stop reading and laughter.  Big Ups to “The Greatest Blogger of All Time!”

I’d first like to start by apologizing.  I know this is delayed – I didn’t realize that those of you readers out there need Home Sweet Homme to get through the week.  I did get all of your responses, however, so this one’s to you!  Now, this was actually written a few days ago, but I’ve been told that it is a bit controversial, so I apologize in advance to those of you offended by this post – namely Mamma J and The Big Guy.  Enjoy!

In Late October, The Wife accepted a position in Spokane, Washington.  At the time, we had been living in Las Vegas, Nevada – not to be confused with Las Vegas, New Mexico (home of the dirtiest toilets in the world!).  In a whirlwind move, The Wife gave her notice at her position in Las Vegas and moved in with her aunt and uncle in Spokane.  I felt bad for them.  She was there for 3 weeks and trashed the place.  We still get invited over for Wednesday Soup Nights, but I don’t know why.  She had her stuff everywhere.  When we arrived, it was four boxes and two tubs.  When she moved out, it took 4 trips to move everything over to the house.  Another time, we took The gUrt over for dinner for Wednesday Soup Night right around Christmas.  Within three minutes, he managed to eat half their toys into chunks and started grabbing toys off the Christmas Tree.  It was like a pirate who just stormed a ship – pillaging everything in site.  Man, I felt so bad that we proceeded to bring him two more nights.  The third Wednesday Soup Night at their house, he was so annoying that he is no longer invited.  That’s so embarrassing.  I uninvited him, but that’s because I could see it coming down the pipe anyway.  “Hey, Ash, ssssoooo…Hogan’s real nice and all, but…why don’t you plan on…leav…” – thanks, but I’ll cut you off at the pass! By the way, I think The Big Guy and Mamma J (my Father-In-Law and Mother-In-Law) are a little jealous of Wednesday Soup Nights.  They used to live in Spokane years ago and came up with the concept.  Then The Wife decided we’d do it with aunt and uncle.  So I thought I’d do some Wednesday Soup Nights T-Shirts.  I think I’d use a Cup-O-Noodles cup on the back and then say Wednesday Soup Nights on the front left or right chest.  Then I’ll put above the Cup-O-Noodles this: “What’s my weakness?  SOUP!” Yeah, that’d be so sweet.  I’m rambling.

So – Whirlwind Move – yes, The Wife was in Spokane in 3 weeks.   I stayed behind in Las Vegas and packed the house.  It was crazy – I packed the entire house in 1 week.  The movers came on a Thursday and packed everything up (remind me to tell that story – WOAH) , then I drove to the Northwest, my new home.  Now, this whole move was two weeks earlier than I had hoped for.  My plan was to send the movers off on a Tuesday and then drive up to San Francisco from Las Vegas, stay there for a day, drive up the coast from San Francisco to Tillamook and stay there for a couple days and let The gUrt play on the beach.  Then I’d leave, drive to Seattle, hang out with ServiceSucksNick (my Cousin-In-Law) for a day, then head over these crazy mountains to Spokane.  That’s right, drive some really high mountains in December between Seattle & Spokane.  Yes, I was going to do all of that – and all the while, leave The Wife to receive the movers in Spokane.  What a guy huh?  Well, I was quickly brought back to reality and we pushed the date forward 2 weeks to beat this HUGE snowstorm that Spokane could get.  Mind you, when I agreed to move to Spokane, I said I would do it on one condition – that I could get a snowmobile.  Correct that, two conditions.  That I could get TWO snowmobiles.  The Wife made fun of me, but I suggested that snowmobiles were needed in Spokane to get around in the winter.  She quickly corrected me and told me that Spokane barely get’s much snow in the winter.   So here she is saying one minute that Spokane doesn’t get much snow, but then that we needed to be up there two weeks earlier to beat the snow?  What gives?  I think she was just jealous of the “Ash and Hogan Road Show” and that she wasn’t going to be able to attend.  That’s what I think.  So we did it her way and moved up 2 weeks early.

We moved in and we were comfortable in our new digs.  She was right, the weather was really nice.  For 6 Days.  That’s right folks – 6 days.  Spokane proceeded to receive 61 inches of snow.  FIVE FEET of snow.  And here I am, Mr. Las Vegas, and I’m out side every hour shoveling snow.  To the point that I had 8 feet of snow on either side of the three car driveway and broke my back trying to lift it over the hump to remove it.  The first couple of weeks, I was meticulous with my shoveling.  I would shovel to the edge, then I would cut the edge and shovel snow away so there was a clean sliced edge along each side of the driveway.  All the neighbors probably thought, “Look at this A-Hole, he’s spending way to much time shoveling.  Most people would just shovel to the sides and then toss it on the edges in this half-assed manner.  Some would even leave one bay of their driveway un-shoveled and even stack some of the snow on it.  I thought that was “real smart.”  I laugh at them now because they have these driveways that have 8 feet of hard packed snow in them.  Some people, the one’s with the extra car they don’t drive, didn’t shovel them out.  Now those cars won’t go anywhere until next August!  HAH!  Not the Ash & Hogan Show – no way, our driveway is perfectly groomed!

I spent the better part of December and the beginning of January in pain.  It was a good pain, but I thought my back was broken.  So, we decided to break down and get a snow-blower – or snow-thrower for the fanatic readers!  I’ll tell you that whole debacle another time, but I managed to buy one online and have it delivered.  It took 2 weeks.  I shoveled that whole time just waiting for the day that the snow-blower would arrive.  I couldn’t wait!  I wanted to go out and buy gas and oil and all the fixings, but I didn’t know what I’d need, so I just waited.  About 2 days before the snow-blower arrived (January 8), it stopped snowing.  They delivered it, I went out and bought the gas can, filled it up, bought the oil, then I came home and fired that bad boy up!  OH YEAH – it’s a beast.  It will tear through a snowstorm like a hot knife through butter.  Just beautiful!

I can’t Frerking (big ups to The Greatest Vet of All Time, Dr. Thad Frerking) believe it.  After all of that, it hasn’t snowed since the snow-blower arrived.