This is a story about marriage… Marriage in real life.

Sunday morning.

He (The Husband – to be clear) was in bed.

I was not…

I was getting ready and furiously checking things off my very long list.

Ownin’ the day and whathaveyou.

Him: Hey baby. Why don’t you… you know… Come over here.

Me: Baby.

Him: C’mon baby.

(This is not verbatim, but it practically is…)

Me: Dude. I’m already taking on the day here.

Him: You know y…

Me: I tell you what… get a post-it. I’m taking care of my list, babe. Put it on my pillow. It just needs to be on the list.

Him: Good idea.

We have always been a good team. Mostly because he tells me I have good ideas.

This is our teamwork doing the dishes…

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Romance & Marriage: A Use for Post-Its is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

My amends in advance.

I realize the following post might be a bit racier in content than my usual talk of peonies, or dog vomit, or coffee…

But folks. If I can’t talk about married sex up here on mah blawg, then…

To be clear… This post is about sex.

In case it was unclear up to this point.

And Dad… You may want to skip this one.

The following is a real-life convo between my huz and me:

The Huz (sitting on couch, working on laptop): Hey. When can we make-out and stuff?

Me (half-running up the stairs to the office in my bedroom… racing to plug in my dying laptop): Create an iCal event and invite me.

And so he did:

Two minutes in heaven… It’s business time.

What? You don’t use iCal?

It’s a great business tool.

Heh.

“TOOL”

Heh. Heh.

I should probably go.

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BEING busy is different than GETTIN’ busy: An iCal invite is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

I’ve been feeling not-normal-ish lately.

Some not-normal-ish has been reminiscent of times when I have had a bun in the oven ifyaknowwhatimean.

A physical manifestation or two… An intense craving for pickled things.

Seriously. I nearly tore my pantry apart looking for pickles or pickled jalepenos… I even pulled out vinegar (but put it back) becuase I just needed *something*.

Weird?

I would say that it is. I have never been known for my pickle consumption.

I am an Oreo and coffee kind of gal.

Here’s the thing… I shouldn’t be concerned about being pregnant. You see, the huz visited Dr. Snip…

and it took.

Dr. Snip.

*does scissor hand-thing*

So, given all that history, as I’ve been expressing my concern to my huz — he inisits it would be imposssible.

IMPOSSIBLE.

I said, “I have heard stories. These things happen.”

He said, “Well, if you are, then I’m going to have to demand a paternity test.”

As I accounted for my time in my head, all I could see was the glow of my computer…

I was all, “Yeah. It’d come back that my computer was the father.”

Seriously, I have been spending so much time on le computer, it could almost be my parasitic twin.

Oooooor the father of the child I am most likely not pregnant with.

I guess at this point I should tell you that at this point I don’t think I am pregnant.

But I’m not ruling anything out.

THESE THINGS HAVE HAPPENED, RIGHT?

Bodies are weird. Minds are weird. I should know for sure in a few days. But I had to check my cycle schedule with the huz. He keeps track for me him. Poor guy. I really am a bit of a train wreck… even without being pregnant with a computer.

Clearly, I am exhausted.

My amends.

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A paternity test? is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

My Man.

I love you.

I love We.

MY blessing.

MY fullness.

Without YOU…

There would be no WE.

And that is not happy.

This is my wordy way of saying,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY…

I am glad you were born.

Like, a lot.

So are the kids.

You can see it in their sweet faces.

They got that look from you.

Not their mother.

Definitely YOU, Birthday Boy.

P.S. You will always be older than me.

Neener.

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Happy Birthday to He. is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

I’m talking about the/my Husband, a.k.a. – The Huz.

We have a pretty special relationship.

For example, if he asks, “Does this shirt make me look fat?” And I answer, “No, your fat neck makes you look fat…” We laaaaaaugh… He may or may not measure his neck. I have no idea. But I know we laugh.

We have come to expect such encouragement things from one another.

Like this recent convo:

Me: I think the barista made me a sugar-free white chocolate mocha instead of the real-thing. Ugh. Ick. Yuck. Gross. What a waste!

The Huz: Maybe she thought you needed it…

Stinker.

Recently, as we were fixin’ drift off into dreamland…

Huz: You’re hot.

Me: Shut up.

Huz: No seriously. If your picture were on that one website, Hot or Not, I would totally choose HOT.

Me: Awesome?

And recently, while I sat and took notes on my computer about ANOTHER something he said… he said, “My whole life is a reality show for you… You can take THAT to the Twitters.”

See? He knows me. And he still stays.

Desperate times, desperate measures??? Maybe… maybe not…

Uh-oh… here comes the smolder…

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Make Me Laugh Monday: My He is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

My Huz and I had a little conversation today yesterday. Time flies, no?

We talked about our independent spirits… if you will.

Basically, we both have a hard time with not being in supreme power delegation. We both agree, it is a pain in the butt to have to coordinate with others. It feels like more work to share decision-making.

It’s not that we are lazy, it’s that we are in a hurry. Not to mention, we both like being the boss. Takethatasyouwill.

I am anything but co-dependent. Unless it comes to the trash. I co-depend on him to take the garbage to the road. Our drive is steep and 2 football fields long plus 100 feet. I am smart enough to know when delegation is smart… and the lawn. I co-depend when it comes to mowing the lawn too.

Not that I CAN’T do these things… it’s that I am so sweet and dainty. Demure, even…

Shut up.

So.

Mid convo, I blurted, “So THAT is why We are so great together!”

It seems we are so consumed by our own projects and roles and whathaveyou, that we are both thankful neither is uber-needy/co-dependent/cling-ish. I can leave the man for 5 days and he’s right as rain. Whatever THAT means.

He can climb deep down into his man-cave and it’s fine – I haz gots things to do… and I’m not talkin’ laundry, yo. Though I do have that to do, but that is not the to-do I am talkin’bout heeya. I have a blog. So…

Though we do LIKE to spend time together, even LONG to spend more time together… we have come to a place where it’s not personal that we are not each others’sses (???) shadow.

And the time we DO co-depend? Well… It’s magical…

[photo cred: Mark Gsellman]

Wait. Here’s the picture I was looking for:

[photos cred: Scott Snyder]

We are like Captain and Tenille! Wait… Wilma and Fred! Wait… Debbie Boone and Aaron Neville!

You Light Up My Life from Jenny Ingram on Vimeo.

Nitro and Glycerin? Wrong and Wronger???

*A special thanks to Scott Bue for capturing this on video. And to all the people at Lisa’s party – first my huz as Aaron Neville then in Michelle’s disco outfit. I am still shaking my head… A night to never forget, indeed… And a night to wash-out one’s ears and, and then one’s eyes…

Baby. I co-depend on you. Sometimes.

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Mr. and Mrs. Independent is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

Oh. My. Goodness.

I had the tele on today. Not the greatest options were available… The soap operas *yawn*… The talks shows *yammer*…

So I opted for “retro” and let the channel rest on Emergency!… I haven’t see that show in as many years as I have on 4 hands.

Aaaanynowhoooos…

I looked up from my laptop (let’s face it, I never really “watch” TV anymore)… I was mesmerized.

John… John Gage.

Hey baby, bring summa that over here. Those dark, puppy-dog eyes…

Then I started thinking about my other big crush back in first grade… Ponch.

LOVED. Him.

It matters not which team he swings for. HE’S FRIGGIN’ FRANK PONCHERELLO.

My grandma lived in “The Valley” and when we’d travel the busy Southern California highways, I’d dream of seeing Ponch… on his motorcycle. Vrooooooom.

Hmmmm. Have I always been drawn to men with dark hair… or men in uniform? Or men with partners?

I digress.

And Elvis. Loved him too.

Hunka hunka burnin’ love… In. Deed.

But I’m not in first grade anymore. AND I’m married. To a man… I probably would have had a crush on when I was 6… With dark hair… He may not give CPR, he may not patrol the highways of So. Cal, but he does play the guitar…

And has a side-kick.

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A "Boy" Crazy 6 Year Old is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

16 years, ya’ll.

The 16 years I had to wait to get my driver’s license seemed like FOREVER.

So have the past 16 years.

These last 16 years have FLOWN, ya’ll.

And each has been filled with lots of marriage-type stuffs.

I’m not gonna fluff it up. It’s effort. It’s concerted, mindful effort. And failure.

And there ain’t no auto-pilot, cuz that would kill a marriage for sure.

16 years of marriage probably means I am entering “veteran” status as far as being married goes.

*snort*

The young pups might want to know how I do it. *said with shakiest voice*

How do I live with a man and not kill him?

I’d say it’s 1 part compromise and 2 parts also compromise.

Add kids to the mix, and a girl finds herself in a very-so-much compromising position.

It is not all about me. As hard as I try.

You know that pop-culture popular adage, “I has gots to do what I has gots to do FOR ME”?

Not so much a victory cry when entering the battlefield of marriage… then add nitroglycerin parenthood.

But really, none of life should be lead with that sort of heart and philosophy. If we are doing what we has gots to do for ourselves… um… I fail to see the fulfillment.

All those people who are so busy living for themselves… Leading the culture’s charge… I believe, end up BY themselves, literally, figuratively, whatever… Because love… does it exist in a forest where no one can hear a tree fall?

Wait. I’m confused.

Ummm…

Fulfillment comes from seeing how you add and grow and benefit others… Love is doing/being what you has gots to do/be for someone else – in need or simply because. Because. This is so in marriage, in the parent-child relationship, in friendships…

(And if anyone feels the need to add, “But you need to take care of yourself!”, I will cut you. We all know that, and I am not saying we shouldn’t take care of ourselves either. So, save your breath fingers and save me a jail sentence.)

My husband and I both, have had to sacrifice… compromise for the sake of the other. We’ve both chosen ourselves over the other… Our compromise has had ranges – from heartbreak or simple inconvenience of our own… All, ultimately, for the sake of the big picture.

I am fortunate. The man I chose so many years ago… is not a man who lives for himself. It’s not just me… nor just him…

WE.

———

Love? Is THAT the “big picture”.

I believe it is just a piece of the big picture. Hollywood would say it’s love, but those stories last 90-120 minutes.

BIG PICTURE, not “major motion picture”.

There are no fairy tales, and young ladies… any man that assures a fairy tale life… just beware. He is probably on the mar-y-ja-wana.

I digress…

I run in the winter not because it feels good to run in 29 degree weather… but because the consistent discipline helps create a beautiful life/body/mind for me.

We stick through the highs and lows… and the worst – the mundane… because it is all temporary compared to the big picture.

The big picture. Life. Family. Love.

And we saw Cake and The Black Keys and stayed at the Alexis Hotel for our Sweet Sixteen.

This is Cake.

!!!!!

The Black Keys!

!!!!!

So, like… CAKE and THE BLACK KEYS??? And a strong guy to keep me from getting mushed to death??? Yeah, TOTALLY worth 16 years of compromise *wink*

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Sweet Sixteen – Happy Anniversary to We is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

SNOW-mahgosh! La WA Niña has come to Western Washington!

And we Pacific Northwesterlies were NOT prepared.

My husband’s 3o minute trek home took 6 hours.

We are soooo Little House on the Prairie like that.

He waited for a bus that never showed.

The bridge was closed.

He walked 2 miles in snow.

In his Converse.

He hopped in a car with a stranger in hopes of making it to his fair family.

That traveled 1 foot per minute-ish.

That car gave into the elements.

Another walk and wait on the highway to wrangle another ride… a ride that eventually and graciously took him to the park and ride… where he scraped snow off his windshied with a small piece of wood…

All the while I plucked a chicken and churned my own butter. kept refreshing Facebook to keep up on the scoop – since we lost power.

In my defense, I did cook toaster waffles on my gas stovetop… and also sausage… so I was being a bit of a pioneer woman, now wasn’t I? *bats lashes*

I digress…

At this point, my man had earned EVERY. REASON. to go straight home.

But not MY man.

My man stopped and picked up my box of veggies that gets delivered to a local business every other week.

He stopped and got my box of veggies.

HE DID.

Sexiest. Man. Ever.

When he walked in the door, I stood perplexed.

“YOU GOT THE VEGGIE BOX???!!!”

He was all, “YEAH. You’re a blogger and I knew it would give you something to write about.”

And I was all, “So if I wasn’t a blogger, you wouldn’t have gotten the veggie box?”

And he was all, “No. Way.”

Sexiest. Man. Alive.

And I used that gas stove top to make that sexy man an eggnog latte.

Who’s sexy now?

And he is alive. Thank good golly. It was a dangerous mess out there. I was concerned about his foot-scapades on the highway. Us Pacific Northwesties with our hills and, like TWO snowplows don’t do so well…

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In Which My Husband is My Hero. is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

About 7 months ago I showcased my custom-blinged swine flu masks in a video:

I wish I had another video to share. Alas, I do not. I know this is disappointing and I promise I will not make a habit of such things *feels self-important*. I do have a couple of pictures of new masks… one is a re-make of the famous and favorite army men mask that my husband made himself under my critical watchful creative eye(s)… and the other, well just another brilliant maniacal creation of my mind. We wore these on Halloween.

Here’s my husband’s interpretation of the army men mask:

Ain’t no fool swine flu gettin’ all up in theh, yo.

This next one was more genius than I gave myself credit for. In my mind, I envisioned the swine flu virus just being scared by all the sharp points on the following mask:

What I didn’t know, until I started walking along the streets, meetin’ mah public where they at… I didn’t anticipate that no one would want to come near me.

No one.

Within the first two minutes of bein’ out in my public, one woman… eyes opened wide in horror… saw me… backed away and yelped, “OH MY GAH! WHAT ISssss THAT?”

I get that a lot.

For the rest of my trick-or-treating evening I was left physically alone. No hugs. No kisses. No hand shakes… not even a high five. No slobbery babies… If you are a recluse – I suggest ordering one of these masks. There is no need to live on a secluded island anymore. A push-pin swine flu mask is all you need to attain the isolation you crave and deserve.

Conclusion: Based on my scientific research, of all the masks I have ever created – I believe this mask to be the most effective at keeping the germies away. Success!

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Swine Flu Mask Reprise is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...