Reasons why I love my husband.

#268 - A sentence like "I think 'designer breeds' are my 'fake balconies'" makes absolute sense to him and nothing else has to be explained.

(My husband hates fake balconies on buildings with a passion. They make him grit his teeth. I feel the same way about mixed breeds that you can get at any shelter being created by the shitloads in poorly kept puppy mills and sold for a ridiculous price because they are given adowabew names like "Chorkies" and "Labradoodles")

Also, haven't posted in a while due to NaNoWriMo. Which I won. But the book is not yet done.

In rapid succession.

Rug buying.
Couch buying.
Held an Emmy.
Pretended that I was Kathy Griffin while holding said Emmy.
Got google wave invitations to give out.
Rolled on rolling on NaNoWriMo.

How to Reduce Spousal Stress Through Well Timed Disasters

Or: How I made my husband nearly pee his pants.

So I was making an apple pie in one of those deluded moments when I think that I'm actually domestic or something. The pastry had been prepared and rolled out, the apples had been cut and dusted with sugar and lemon juice and left to drain, and I was mixing the dry ingredients to sprinkle between layers. Measured them carefully (ha!! right *snork*) into a container and then put the top on, making sure that it fit properly. I put my fingers carefully on top of the container to hold the top on and then started to shake.
And was promptly engulfed in a cloud of sugar and cinnamon. Because the side of the top I wasn't holding down popped open on the upswing. Whoops!
Which is how my husband came home to find me severely dusted in cinnamon, sugar, corn startch and other lovely additions, the floor crunchy with sugar.
What else could he do? He literally fell to his knees laughing until he couldnt' breathe. And then he told me about his bad day that was much better now as he helped me clean up and re-fill the container.

Oh yeah, and I'm doing NaNoWriMo. No I will not be publishing chapters on here.