It turns out *we* are the terrible neighbors

When the Pretend Husband went to empty the ashes out of our pellet stove yesterday, the tray was still too hot and burned a hole through the oven mitt he tried to use to carry it outside. I opened the door to find him bent down next to the tiny garden pond by our front steps, trying to break the layer of ice on top and dip the oven mitt into the water.

As he came inside, the PH threw the oven mitt onto a pizza box sitting on the front steps (I think he was going to hold it under the ash tray to make sure ashes didn't fall onto the floor as he walked?) and I warned him to make sure the oven mitt wasn't still burning because it could start a fire.

An hour later, the doorbell rang, I heard the PH yell, "Fire!" as he walked into the hallway and I immediately began filling a bowl with water. As the PH took over that job, I opened our front door to find our neighbor pouring his beer onto the charred remains of the oven mitt and pizza box.

Our neighbor, while working in his garage and trying to enjoy a beer, had noticed huge clouds of smoke drifting over from our property. From his house, it looked like the smoke was coming from the bedroom windows of our house and so he hustled over to investigate. As he was arriving on our doorstep, intending to find out if we were home, he came upon the actual fire that was creating all that smoke and, as I mentioned, wasted a perfectly good beer putting it out for us.

All I can say it, thank goodness our neighbor is the type of guy who investigates first and calls the fire department second. And you had better believe I made the PH tell me I was right about not leaving the oven mitt sitting on cardboard.

Yes, you got it down. No, you did not do it intelligently.

One of the caveats that came with the house and property we bought from my dad is the large number of trees that my dad planted more than 30 years ago that have since taken over the yard. They are mostly huge, huge, huge evergreen trees (you know the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center each year? these are too big to qualify...)

While we're not huge fans of the trees that ring the property, there are two in particular that have been the bain of our existence because one is planted in the center of the front yard (blocking the house) and the other is planted in the center of the backyard (blocking the yard from the house). The Pretend Husband and I have always talked about getting them taken down in both a "wouldn't it be nice if we had some extra money and could hire a tree service?" kind of way (me) and a "I bet I could get a couple of buddies over here and take them down" kind of way (him).

While I tend to plot and plan, the PH can be a mite more impulsive, as evidenced by the phone call I got on a Friday afternoon announcing that he and kat's lil bro had been text messaging and decided they were going to take down the tree in the front yard. When I couldn't convince the PH it might not be a good idea to undertake such a big project without any idea how to even begin, I pulled lil bro aside and said, "I expect you to be the voice of reason. If you guys don't know how to do this without sending the tree into the house, don't go through with it." His response was, "How hard can it be?"

Which is how, within minutes, my brother was cutting a notch on one side of the tree while the PH stayed out of the way (I think he figured, if he didn't physically handle the chainsaw, he wouldn't be responsible for the tree crashing into the second floor of our house). So, the tree was notched on the side the guys wanted it to fall on, the wood was cleared out of the notch and... nothing happened. The tree didn't move.

My brother continued cutting until the chainsaw got stuck and turned off, which is when... we heard a crack... and the tree started moving... toward me, who was standing in front of our garage (so, it didn't fall directly toward the house at least, but still not in the direction it was supposed to go).

I ran, kat's lil bro ran from where he was at the base of the tree and the PH stood out of range staring in a horrified manner as the tree fell-- in the exact opposite direction from where the guys had planned for it to fall.

Luckily, it missed everything (our house, the garage, my dad's cannons, cars passing by the road, Molly and Casey) except two branches of another nearby tree. I spent the rest of the night saying to the PH, "You guys are soooo lucky. So lucky." And he responded, "It wasn't luck." To which I would reply, "It wasn't luck? Then what was it? Because it sure wasn't skill!"

Yes, I'm grateful for the new and improved view from our front door. No, I will not be letting the PH, kat's lil bro and their mighty chainsaw near the tree in the backyard. Some things-- like someone who knows how to send a tree in the direction it's intended-- are worth paying for.

Happy ThanksChristmasGiving, everyone!

So, I hope you're not really jealous, Internet, that KAT and I now live within a really long and exhausting but not so far that it's not doable walking distance from each other.

How amazing is that, right? And only slightly further from us is the lovely and amazing home improvement mistress of all that is power tool related: SRG.

It's fabulous, I tell you. Every day I come home from work and am struck a) by how freaking dark it is and b) by the fact that I have a coat closet.

And, as of Saturday, a WASHER AND DRYER that SING TO ME. Oh yes.

It's the little things, folks. I've been forbidden from doing all of the updating I really want to do - which is mainly, things like paint, new light fixtures and carpet. It's not like I'm knocking down walls like we did last time. And I'm totally on board with taking our time re: furniture and such.

But don't make a girl stare at ugly brass fixtures for too long. Or this:

Ugliest crown molding you ever did see. I am itching to paint, but I'm forbidden until we can fully agree on.. everything.

Which is sad for me, because it obviously means I'm never going to paint. Woe to me.

But not really sad woe. Because I still have room to put up three Christmas trees during this week of ThanksChristmasgiving. And for that, and a thousand other things that have to do with my new house, my awesome friends and family that helped me unpack, I am eternally grateful.

And for those of you that are wondering, the dinner count stands at:
me and J over KAT's house the night before closing
KAT and the PH coming over Friday to help us unpack and celebrate
dinner with the KAT and PH on Sunday
and then dinner at their house again on Wednesday (we didn't get our new oven yet, and KAT obviously missed us)
KAT and the PH over our house yesterday to celebrate the new oven.
And we have plans for going over there on Wednesday.

Also, we may or may not have met them at Target and we may or may not have also had ice cream with them on Saturday night. For dinner.

With all of this increase in the social calendar, our neighborhood shall be revitalized in no time. Although, since I have yet to see a neighbor, I wonder if they realize that they're in need of revitalization?

Just you wait, B-town. KAT and sj are coming with crockpots to a neighborhood near you.

Having a five-mile wide neighborhood could get a little tough on the trick-or-treaters

Oh man, did you ever have one of those neighbors who you could spend all sorts of time with and it's just not enough for them? Like, you let them sleep over your house on a Thursday night (and make them waffles in the morning), but THEN they still want you to visit their house on Friday night? And THEN they come over to your house on Sunday for dinner? And THEN they accept an invite to come over for dinner on Wednesday night? And THEN they invite you over for dinner the next Sunday? And THEN they want to establish a weekly dinner with you? It's so hard for the Pretend Husband and I, being just so popular with our neighbors *insert dramatic sigh here*

You may have picked up on the fact that SJ and her husband moved Friday! To our town! And all that complaining I was doing was fake and was in fact, just a way to rub it in about how much time we now get to spend with them and how awesome that is (we have decks of cards scattered all over both houses because you never know when a Setback game will need to be played!)

I would love to tell you about SJ's new house because it's huge and fabulous and, thanks to her family, had a completely organized kitchen by the time they went to bed on their first night in the house. But I don't want to steal her thunder (seriously, though, it's huge... and fabulous.)

But I will say, welcome to the neighborhood, SJ (what? I can't extend my neighborhood five miles to the west to include SJ's house?) We're excited to have you and look forward to those weekly dinners and if a game or two of Setback gets played afterward, who am I to complain?

Wow. This real estate thing is hard.

.... Seriously! You have to keep your house clean for days.... six of them to be exact.

Why just six, you ask?

Because. We just sold it. Yesterday.

Well, okay not exactly. But we did accept an offer (after countering) and our house is Under Contract.

Exciting, right? Oh, sure, it was nerve-wracking. And yes, maybe we did under price it. And I'm sure we'll have lots of people tell us this (as they have already). And I assure you that DOES NOT HELP EASE MY MENTAL STATE. *

You know, my mental state that is currently all confuddled because I won't actually have a place to live in about six weeks. So the house hunt is ON like DONKEY KONG. **

And also because, as my sister just pointed out, my closing is FRIDAY THE 13th. ***

* - Sorry for the over caps. I'm really excited.
** - Again, sorry. But hello? I don't have a place to live in six weeks.
*** - Surely this one too is a gimme, no?

This is why I will not be moving until at least next year...

Dear SJ,

Selling a house S-U-C-K-S. I mean, I'm not going to blow smoke up your butt. It's terrible. I think the only reason I survived it was because a lot of our stuff was still packed in boxes from when we had moved in a year before.

Showings are a pain in the butt because it means having to get your dog out of the house, erase all indications a dog lives there, clean up anything that has accumulated since the last showing, turn on all the lights (that's a little hint from an old pro at this...) and find somewhere to go-- harder than it sounds because even if you have a million stops to make on your way home from work, inevitably, you will not have anything that needs to get done or any way to fill your time for the hour you need to stay away from home. Oh, and don't get me started on the phone call you will receive at work from someone in the realtor's office saying, "I know you indicated you need 24-hour notice, but these buyers are right around the corner and want to stop in at your house. Is that OK?"

But, you know what? It's worth it in the end. I guess it's like childbirth where you forget how painful it was just as soon as you lay eyes on the baby (or so I've heard...). Because the cleaning? The having to vacate your house for an hour at a time? The open houses? The last minute showings? Won't matter at all the day your offer on a new house is accepted.

So, I wish you an offer $30,000 over your asking price from the first people to walk through your house, an appropriate closing date and the current owners of the house of your dreams accepting your offer for $100,000 less than what the house is worth. And, short of that, I have a cabinet full of (your) liquor I'm willing to crack open at any hour, including the one you need to stay out of your house for while a buyer walks through.

Yours 'til the martinis run dry,

FunnyGal KAT

Forget matching hand towels-- I'm happy when there's no hair in the sink!

I figured it was time to move the post about asking my mother-in-law to share her prescription drugs from the top of the page. But I don't have too much to write about because my life lately has been a whirlwind of cleaning and finishing up tasks around our house in preparation for guests.

Growing up, kat's lil sis and I shared a bedroom. And not peacefully. Kat's lil sis is a perfectionist of sorts and likes everything to be organized and kept in its proper place. And me? I'm not. At all. Our room didn't quite have a line drawn down the middle, but it was easy to see which half belonged to whom. Mine was the one that looked like a tornado had recently blown through, tearing all my clothes out of my dresser drawers and leaving them scattered on the bed, the desk, the floor, etc.

And, while I've gotten better about it over the years, I'm still not the perfectionist my sister is. Yes, I like things to be organized. Yes, I love how rooms look when they're neat and clean. No, I don't want to be the one responsible for keeping them that way. So I've spent the last couple days cleaning, organizing and de-cluttering (and even unpacking some of the boxes that sit in the corner 10 months after we moved into the house). Which is something I would do for anyone who was coming to stay with us.

But it's especially important this time because kat's lil sis (and the greatest nephew in the world!) is the one coming to visit. And I'll be darned if I'm going to give her and the Pretend Husband any more ammunition than they already have ("KAT used to make me angry by keeping the light on to read when I was trying to sleep." "She still does that! I hate it!") I may still annoy people by reading when they're trying to sleep and not all my clothes make it back into the closet the second I take them off (or, sometimes, for a few days after I take them off...) but my house will be neat when lil sis arrives.

Between the dogs, my on-the-verge-of-walking nephew and my own bad habits, I give it about 10 minutes before all my hard work gets undone.

One-and-a-quarter animals sighted in my neighborhood recently

I should start a pool to see how much longer the Pretend Husband lets up stay in our current neighborhood before insisting we move. I would put my money on "not much longer."

Remember the tail and animal intestines I found in our yard? Well, I was walking the dogs up the street two weeks ago when I noticed what I thought was a tree branch in the road (and yes, I should know better by now, but my mind just doesn't want to leap immediately to "animal part," you know?) Anyway, as we got closer, I realized the "branch" had a hoof. It was the leg of a deer (just the leg). It was gross.

Then, just last week, I was again taking the dogs for a walk when I heard some branches breaking in the woods next to us. Thinking it was kids playing in the woods, I glanced over and noticed a dark shadow moving around. Looking closer, I realized it wasn't a shadow, but a big, black bear. Luckily, it was moving away from the dogs and me, so I was able to just stand and watch it for a bit (instead of the alternative: running for my life) It was cool.

I can see how our new neighborhood is making the PH a bit nervous. And I can understand why he won't let the dogs out into the yard alone at night. But I'm trying to find a bright side to it, too. I mean, we'll never have to spend any money on visiting the zoo. (Yeah, I know... that's a small consolation. Feel free to send me your entries for the "How Soon Until the PH Makes Us Move" pool)

We turn the thermostat all the way up to 64 for guests!

If I had to sum up the FunnyGal KAT family in two words, they would be frugal (or "cheap") and disorganized. Some of it can be blamed on a very expensive house renovation that has us still living out of boxes, but we're going to have to take responsibility for the rest.

On Friday, the Pretend Husband noticed that our oil tank was almost empty. When I called the oil company, I was told they couldn't come out to fill it until Monday. So we spent the weekend keeping our fingers crossed we wouldn't run out of oil. Oh, and trying to conserve oil... by keeping the thermostat at 58 degrees (it's usually not above 62 so it wasn't a huge sacrifice).

I just called the PH, who had the day off from work today, to make sure the oil was delivered.

PH: Yes, the guy came a little while ago.

Me: OK, what I want you to do is... jack the heat up to 75 about an hour before I get home. We're living it up tonight!

Don't be a hater, yo

Oh man, all you single people are going to be soooo jealous when you hear how awesome married life is! I mean, you might be feeling like your Valentine's Day plans to go out to dinner with a group of friends or rent sappy movies and eat ice cream are lame, but wait until you hear what the Pretend Husband has planned for us. We are going to spend all of Valentine's Day... are you ready for this?.... are you sure?.... here goes... cleaning out the garage!

OK, settle down, he's mine and you can't have him. Before the PH finds out I'm mocking him on the blog, I'll be fair and tell you all that we agreed not to do anything special for Valentine's Day this year... well, except wait until all the candy goes on clearance and then stuff ourselves full of chocolate-- that's romantic, isn't it?

And the cleaning out the garage plans aren't that lame because they mean our renovation is almost over! The majority of our furniture has been stacked in the garage since our family and friends put it there on moving day and we've been living out of boxes ever since. We've been slowly moving things into the house as we finish different rooms, but this will be the last of what we need (except the kitchen stuff, but don't ask me about that unless you're ready to pick up the pieces of brain after my head explodes in frustration...)

And the best part? Cleaning all the stuff out of the garage means we'll be able to park our cars in there. No more chipping ice off the windshield, no more frozen bottles of water on the front seat, no more risking my life to skate across the driveway to my car. Yay! So, actually, I guess the PH is giving me a usable garage for Valentine's Day which, if I'm honest, is way better than flowers and a card anyway.

It's a good excuse to smack him in the head with a frying pan...

I worked from home yesterday, all the while staring out into the empty living room in our house. We finally had the hardwood floors refinished and the Pretend Husband said we could begin moving furniture in that evening. Finally, I couldn't take the big, empty room any longer and began moving in a rug, then a lamp, then an end table... until all it needed when the PH got home was the couch.

So, last night, amid some grunting, a lot of groaning and definitely some filthy words, the two of us got the couch into the living room. We paused to vacuum it off, then I lit the candles in the fireplace and the four of us (the PH, Molly, Casey and moi) collapsed onto it. The lights were off, the candles were glowing in the fireplace, we were nestled together as a little family... and the PH kept jumping up to move things or clean things or list off everything that still has to be done to the house.

Every.single.time I tried to point out how much we had accomplished and perhaps bask in the glow of that accomplishment a little, the PH interrupted me to talk about what hadn't been done yet. So, in the glow of the candles, cuddled up with the dogs for the first time in our new living room, I began to plan ways to incapacitate my husband. He's going to learn to enjoy those moments even if one of us has to die trying!

I suggested keeping a bucket by the bed...

Years ago, the Pretend Husband and I lived in this tiny little cottage that was "quaint" but also "freezing" because the heater didn't work properly most of the time. And we so looked forward to buying a house together (a house with luxuries like "space to maneuver without stepping on Molly" and "heat that worked.") And when we got that house, we dreamed of someday living in a bigger house that we could fix up ourselves and bring our future children home to.

And now we have that house. We've slaved over that house and celebrated such milestones as "only having to paint the bedroom twice before agreeing on the color," "not chopping off any appendages while using tools ourselves" and "figuring out where that gushing water is coming from with a minimal amount of damage." Sounds so perfect, right?

Well, let me tell you about my weekend. Although we are living in the master bedroom on the second floor of the house, the only working bathroom is in the in-law apartment off the back of the first floor of the house. Not a problem because they are connected through the house's living room so the PH only has to go down a flight of stairs, go through the living room, walk into the apartment and find the bathroom.

Except this weekend, we had the floors in the living room refinished. Which meant to get to the only working bathroom in the house (as well as the only working kitchen and only working TV), we had to go out the front door of the house, around the corner through the snow, up onto a deck and into the apartment. Imagine what the neighbors thought each time they spotted me running through the yard with wet hair, wearing a bathrobe and rubber boots (although maybe they didn't think too much of it since I happened to be running by the canons my dad has guarding the yard, so how weird do I look next to that?)

Luckily, our trek outside through the snow ended this morning once the final coat of polyurethane was dry enough for us to walk on the floors. But now before I left the house, walked around outside, walked into the apartment, remembered something I left upstairs in our bedroom, walked back around outside, walked into the house, walked up the stairs, walked back down, walked back around and re-entered the apartment (rinse and repeat just about every freakin' day). Oh, and not before the PH told me his plan in case he had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night... which was to walk to one of the windows in our bedroom, open it and pee out. Seriously, how have our neighbors not all moved away by now?!?

Just call me Busty the mythbuster...

Myth #1: Husbands are insensitive jerks. I busted that one on our first wedding anniversary when the Pretend Husband presented me with both a funny and sensitive gift. Because the traditional first anniversary gift is paper, the PH went for a paper theme and filled the most hideous dollar store gift bag (that's the funny part, along with a dollar store thank you card as my anniversary card because the monkey on the front said I not only made his day, but his whole year...) with a huge pack of Post-It notes. But not only did he give me paper, he wrote on the first note of each stack, things like, "Happy Anniversary" and "Thank you for everything you do" and "I love you." Of course, the PH didn't realize how many Post-Its come in a pack and quickly ran out of things to say, so the notes toward the bottom of the bag said things like, "I love paper products" and "Molly smells. Love, Casey" and "Casey eats poop. Love, Molly," but still, it's the thought that counts, right?

Myth #2: Low rise tights are not an option. After SJ mentioned her frustration with finding anything but low-rise tights, I was curious. And, since the only tights I could find last night were low-rise, I decided to give them a shot. And here's the thing... I'm worried I've been wearing my tights too low all along (were they supposed to cover my boobs, too?) because the "low-rise" version? They sit at my waist, just like the regular version always did. Oh, and apologies to our one male reader, WildARS, for having to even think about this topic (and apologies to his girlfriend Capricorn because now he has the sexy image of me wearing tights up to my armpits in his head!)

Myth #3: Dark paint makes rooms appear smaller. As someone who just painted her bedroom navy blue, I can attest this one is not true. Because we just moved almost every piece of furniture we own into the room and I still have a huge gaping expanse to fill (wow, my bedroom sounds huge-- oh, did I forget to mention I actually grew up in a castle?). So, everyone is invited over Thursday for Jazzercise to put the extra space to good use (leg warmers are optional, but leotards are a must).

So, did you or didn't you?

So SJ dressed up for Halloween.

And "the cutest nephew in the world" dressed up for Halloween.

But me? I couldn't decide. I had pretty much figured I would hand out candy and admire costumes and be a good neighbor, but not be the weird childless woman who went all out on a costume. Then I panicked yesterday, ran out to the store and bought some supplies for a costume.

And then decided shortly before the trick-or-treaters started to arrive that I wasn't going to dress up. In fairness, I tricked out the outside of the house with a skeleton, a light-up ghost and some other stuff to get into the spirit (no pun intended). But no costume for me.

How about you? Did you dress up? And if so, let's hear the costume ideas so I'm prepared for next year.

I'm back... sort of... well, not really... but soon, I promise

Hoo boy, am I going to owe SJ for posting the whole time I've been gone. And, unfortunately, I'm not really back because we're still living without phone or Internet service at the new house (and, OF COURSE, our cell phones both broke this week so we are only using the Pretend Husband's work cell for emergencies... it's like we're living in "Little House On The Prairie" or something!)

But, fear not, we are supposed to get everything hooked up today and even if that doesn't happen (the phone company has pushed off the date three times already) we will be visiting a home with Internet service. I guarantee I will be posting photos from our trip later this week.

And, oh boy, do I have some good stories saved up from my days of no Internet access! SJ, keep up the good work for a few more days and then feel free to take some time off if you'd like. You've definitely earned it.

This being laid off thing could really work out for the Pretend Husband...

So, today is officially my last day of work. But unofficially? I stopped working yesterday and took today to get a bunch of stuff done. And if today is any indication, I'm going to be one productice mo-fo in my laid off-hood (what? that's not a word?)

I'm a domestic goddess today... for example, all the laundry is folded and put away, I've done three or four sinkfuls of dishes, I made dinner, I premixed the waffles for tomorrow's breakfast, I went grocery shopping and to the bank and now I'm packing me, the PH and the dogs up to head to the new house and stay over. I started the day with a pretty long to-do list, thinking I might get half of it done... and then finished it and kept going. What is wrong with me?!?

So, this may turn into a plan to be such an awesome homemaker that the PH will come to rely on me and want me never to return to work full-time (although I definitely need part-time and freelance work for fear I'd go crazy without doing some type of work). What do you think-- can I keep up this crazy pace or is this the just-got-laid-off adrenaline rush?

Digging out...

I am absolutely BURIED right now... with finishing up my last week of work, job hunting, working on the new house, packing up the old house and completing a project for a friend's business. I'm not sure I will be going to sleep tonight because, of course, everything needs to be completed at once.

I realize this post is not the usual bit o'funny that you've come to expect from us Funny Gals. I promise to try to spend some time at Wal-Mart next week to make up for it (because, for some reason, Wal-Mart cashiers are always coming out with comedic gems, although not usually on purpose...)

In the meantime, send chocolate martinis-- quick!

Move over HGTV!

Now that our first house has become our "practice house" and we're gearing up to transform the house we're buying (which is the house I grew up in), I'm taking a hard look at the skills the Pretend Husband and I bring to the table. (Also? In packing up the office, I found a bunch of photos I never organized, so now seemed as good a time as any to show off our work).

When we moved into our current house, it had been vacated by a woman in her nineties... who loved that mauve carpeting, country style. Well, that and the strangest color combinations you've ever seen. Orange carpeting with lime green walls and doors? Check. Blood red carpet with gray walls and doors? Check. Purple carpet with tan wallpaper? Check.

And now? Well, I hope we're leaving this house looking a little less like a clown threw up in it and more like a couple of classy individuals lived here. But I'll let you decide. First, the kitchen. The before had that country wallpaper on the top, lime green paint on the bottom and the ugliest light fixture I've ever seen...

The after features green and white walls (green wasn't our first choice, but we needed to match the green floor since our budget did not allow for a new one) and a light fixture that isn't beautiful, but it was cheap and able to be installed by yours truly.

And now, the half bath. Ah, the half bath. It was the last room in the house that needed updating (you'll see why) and we finished it a few days after we put our house on the market. It just stuck out like a sore thumb after the work on the other rooms. But it was worth the rushed work. The before...

And the after... (the sides of the doorway are actually bright white and the walls are pale green, not pink and blue as they appear in the photo-- although ANYTHING is better than the wood paneling that was there!)

OK, one more for you before you decide if the PH and I are worthy of doing the work on our new house. Finally, the living room, where the mauve carpeting was at its finest. The before...

And, alas, the pink curtains did not make the cut in the after...

Looks pretty good, right? Just in time to move out!

I'm scaring myself with my productivity

Who knew getting laid off would be so good for me?!? I have gotten more done in the last two days than I probably have in the entire three months I worked for the company. Of course, very little of it had to do with my actual job.

For example, after covering an event yesterday, instead of trying to find more stories to cover, I blew out of there and headed to the new house... where I painted and cleaned for the next five hours. Five hours! The only thing I do for that long is sleep. But, y'all, I was on fire. I scrubbed the floors ON MY HANDS AND KNEES. I didn't quite get to the level of using a toothbrush to scrub the tile grout, but I thought about it.

What is wrong with me?!? Right after I started cleaning, I cut my finger on a piece of metal. And you know what I did after it started bleeding everywhere? Oh yeah, I wrapped a napkin around it and used my left hand to keep scrubbing! Seriously, I think I have a problem.

Let me pause here for a moment to let KAT's lil sis regain consciousness and get over the shock of me becoming a cleaning machine (I'm sure she well remembers all the Saturdays I spent in our room puttering around instead of cleaning-- only to throw everything in the closet or under the bed when Mom decided enough was enough).

And in case you think that was a one-day thing motivated by the idea of being able to move to a new, bigger house, let me tell you about this morning (KAT's lil sis, you might want to sit down for this...) This morning, the Pretend Husband woke me up sometime in the 6 o'clock hour (the details are a little hazy because I was tired and half-sleep for at least an hour after that...) I took the dogs out as usual, gave them breakfast and then, instead of going back to bed or plopping down in front of the computer to slack off, I WENT GROCERY SHOPPING. (I'm beginning to get concerned I caught some disease or something-- I know rabies causes animals to act uncharacteristically, could I have rabies?)

Yeah, it was before 8 o'clock in the morning and there I was, zipping up and down the aisles of the supermarket, only to come home, cut up the watermelon I bought, make coffee and sit down in front of my computer to do some work at 9 a.m. At this rate, I'll have our entire house packed up and loaded onto a truck by the time the PH gets home from work tonight.

How bad a daughter-in-law am I? Start the voting.

OK, the question of the day... if you were throwing your sister a baby shower, would you invite your own mother-in-law? So, she’s no relation to your sister and is related to you by marriage. What do you say?

Don’t worry, there’s no bet riding on this or anything. It stems from the Pretend Mother-in-Law asking if she’s going to be invited to Lil Sis’ shower. I had been on the fence about it, but said yes when she asked. The Pretend Husband (who usually doesn’t give a crap about this stuff because... well, because he’s a guy) seemed horrified that I had considered not inviting her.

Of course, this is the dude who couldn’t wait to register for our wedding and is already pressuring me to have a baby shower (and no, I’m not even close to being pregnant!). Oh, and when he thinks the oil might be low in the car, he asks me to check it. He also stood by and watched me change out a couple of light fixtures in the house. So, yeah, I’m beginning to suspect he’s the woman in our relationship.

In any case, the PMIL is invited either way, but I still want to know what you think. Vote away.