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!

When we moved to Spokane, we knew a few people from The Wife’s old high school days and some of her family.  Not ever living here, I’m comfortable saying I don’t have any friends here other than the people I’ve met through The Wife.  So, to help us engage in some networking, we’re open to attending some events that we might not have considered before.  In our World Wide Church Tour of Spokane, we came across three churches that we wanted to try and we can’t decide between First Presbyterian Church of Spokane (FPC) and Hamblen Park Presbyterian Church.  So, what does one do in this conundrum?  We attend both – is that like double dating?  Remind me to tell you about the “Three Sarahs Incident” in college.  I’m rambling.

While we were attending FPC last month, we read in their little program they hand out that they were sponsoring a 10 evening event they labeled “10 International Dates”.  Of course, this grabbed both of our attention because we are oh so worldly, even though the farthest we have traveled is Cabo San Lucas, of which I hardly consider “worldly” because its so Americanized!  Should that be capitalized?  Anyway ironically, we both read this and said, “Lets do this!”  However, after re-reading the description, we both realized it was INTENTIONAL dates, not INTERNATIONAL.  Woops.  Which is funny, actually, because I wouldn’t have thought Spokane to be this mecca of international cuisine.

We decided to do this thing – 10 evenings in all, every other week.  It’s INTENTIONAL because you are making a point to do this.  We’re making it INTERNATIONAL because we figured it’d be fun.  You go to the church for 20 minutes and this guy speaks – who is totally hilarious by the way – he’s sarcastic and you can tell he has a somewhat sick sense of humor.  He jokes about his wife a lot, which I always appreciate.  Anyway, then he dismisses you and you have to go on your date and read a chapter in this book they give you, then in the back, there is a 2 page worksheet you fill out based on the topic of the chapter.  It’s all real interesting…delving into one’s marital life.  I think its pretty interesting, especially since we’ve only been married for a year and a half and I feel like we’re already “working” on our marriage.  Actually, I am quite enjoying it.

All that was back story to give you a great story about what transpired last night.  So, we’ve just left the church and The Wife is driving downtown, trying to find a parking spot.  We were just getting along delightfully when all of a sudden, someone let out the monster.  Tension started building for some reason and by the time we got to the restaurant “360″ and thought we’d look at the menu, we were about to strangle each other.  While I’m engulfed in this menu reading, I see that they have the Monte Cristo Sandwich – OH YEAH BABY!  So I head for the door only to be pulled abruptly by the love of my life who proceeds to start yelling at me about how I’m not very attentive because I didn’t see the sign on the door that say enter through the Hotel Luzzo Lobby and as she drags me down the street, she gives me some lecture about how I am missing out on life because I don’t notice things.  She should be a CIA Agent – she notices EVERYTHING!

As we’re entering the hotel, we’re now softly screaming at each other so no one notices we’re at each other’s throats.  We walk down the corridor to the restaurant and she says, “Stop, lets talk about this”.  The gorilla in me brushes past her and walks right up the the hostess and answers “2 please” to her question.  Of course, I’m thinking “two tables please?”.  So we sit down and start thumbing through the menus and somehow sweep our little battle under the rug and I notice something on the menu – no Monte Cristo.  “Frerking (big ups to The Greatest Vet of All Time, Dr. Thad Frerking) dangit, now I just want to eat McDonalds.”  After ordering 2 burgers and Clam Chowder Soup (which was outstanding!), we decide to open our 10 Great Dates book and do our homework.

What’s the topic tonight? Conflict Resolution.  Frerking Perfect.

10 Great Dates to keep her from kicking you to the curb and dating that professional basketball player