Sleep

Or not ...

http://jensamom.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-sleep-perchance-to-dream.html

Time

Another thing nobody tells you about having a baby is how little time you'll have.

Now, I know what you're thinking — It should be obvious to anybody that you'll have little to no free time when dealing with an infant.

I knew that. I realized the days of watching uninterrupted TV were over. I realized wandering through hardware or book stores was coming to an end. I knew spontaneous long drives around town on the weekend were kaput.

I'm talking about not having time to do the simplest of things. Like showering, using the bathroom or even flipping through a magazine.

I thought of this because Jen messaged me today with the triumphant news that she's showered. For the past 10 weeks, she's only done that when I've been home to watch Paige. But, somehow, she managed to do it today.

So kudos to Jen, for showering before I get home today. I don't know if I could have pulled off that feat.

8

As most of y'all know, today is my wedding anniversary. Of course, given the amount of alcohol consumed at the reception (you know who you are), perhaps you don't remember July 15, 2000, all that well.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank Jen for eight great years of marriage. Every day I'm thankful you came into my life.

I love you.

(This counts as a card, right? Or do I still need to run to the Hallmark shop?)

A post I never expected to make

It's July 1. And I'm freaking freezing to death.

It's one of the side effects of Jen's pregnancy. She's hot, and constantly bumping the air down. Not because she's big, but because of the melange of hormones coursing through her body.

In the car, she cranks the air to the coldest setting and puts it on the second-most powerful setting. Normally, when we're in the car, I know to turn the air down after a few minutes because Jen gets cold. It's one of those little things that becomes a habit after 10 years of being with the same person. But now, when I do it out of habit, Jen immediately reaches back over and cranks it back up.

Now that we've got the new 3 1/2 ton air conditioner, we can crank that bad boy down to refrigerator-like levels of cold. Jen just went to bed and asked me to bump the air down. The thermostat read 75 when I walked up to it. So I had to lower it to 73 to get it to kick on.

So here in a few minutes, I'll crawl into bed and pull the comforter up to my neck. It's getting to the point that I've considered pulling my fleece pants and slippers out of the closet.

Wow

Still trying to recover from the weekend.

No, I don't have a three-day hangover. I'm talking about getting my head around the idea that Jen plotted and planned this spectacular surprise birthday party. And that even though I saw Karen and Nash wearing the tee shirts, I still had no clue what was happening.

The fact so many people took the time and spent the money to come to Fort Smith for it absolutely floored and humbled me. I freely admit I still start to tear up when I think about it. Thank you all for being my friend.

Photos have been uploaded onto our home Mac. I'll post some of them later.

The best sandwich in the world

If I could only eat one sandwich for the rest of my life, it would be the hoagie club sandwich from Nancy's Blue Plate.

I stumbled across this sublime sandwich a few weeks ago. Jen and I were having lunch there when I spotted it on that day's specials. Being a fan of the club sandwich (meat, good; lettuce, good; tomato, good), figured I'd try it.

I still remember that first bite. Suddenly, the world stopped. Birds began singing the "Hallelujah" chorus. A ray of sunlight came through the window, lighting up the sandwich. All that is good, right and wonderful in the world was encapsulated in that bite of sandwich. A single, solitary tear of happiness rolled down my cheek.

Now I don't know the particulars of this sandwich because I'm not a gourmet like Jen. It's on a hoagie roll, instead of toasted wheat bread. It's got some sort of sauce or dressing slathered on it, instead of mayo or mustard.

The problem was it was one of Nancy's specials, not on the regular fulltime menu. This is a major problem.

Last week, I asked one of the waitresses when it would be back. She said she'd mention it to Nancy and put it on the menu for this week.

Monday, I had a dentist appointment and they served it. But since I didn't show up, they kept it on the menu for Tuesday ... when I did show up. It was back today, and yes, we ate there again.

The last bite was just as good as I remembered that first bite being. I could eat that sandwich every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

If the Good Lord made me choose between giving up pizza and Mexican food or giving up that one sandwich, I'm taking that glorious creation. Heck, I'd be willing to give up chips and salsa (and you know how I love chips and salsa) to get that sandwich twice a week.

My friends, heaven is a sandwich.

Avoid Stubhub.com

As many, if not all, of you know, Jennifer is a nut for March Madness. She'll go months without watching college basketball, but when March gets here she's suddenly glued to the TV.

So when it was announced the first and second rounds were going to be in North Little Rock, I knew we were going. Luckily, my name was selected in the ticket lottery and we paid $300 for two tickets in the upper deck.

All was right with Jen's March Madness world (though if she never had to hear Bill Raftery say "with the kiss!" or "Onions!" it would be even better).

Then a friend of mine in central Arkansas tells me he's got two tickets with my name on them ... in the lower deck. I naturally accept his offer.

Our paid tickets are suddenly not needed, so I list them on StubHub.com. StubHub is a very reputable and expansive online ticket broker. No scalping tickets outside the stadium, instead you do it via the Internet and the buyer and seller never meet, speak, e-mail nor even know each other's names.

Our tickets get bid up to $450 on Monday. We've just made a profit on them. That's when the trouble starts.

I log in to my StubHub account and try to confirm the transaction. I get an error message. I call customer service and am told there's no record of the sale at all. They check my account and whoops, there was a transaction. I'm bumped from customer service to a supervisor who tells me in all the years the site has been running, they've never had this happen. And they'll fix it within 24 hours.

In the meantime, I'm getting an e-mail from StubHub on my .Mac account on the average of once every 10 minutes. Sometimes I'll get two in a one-minute span. But I'm averaging six an hour, 144 per day. Each one is exactly the same, telling me to confirm the order ASAP.

I call customer service again, ask them to please make the e-mails stop. At this point, I realize we aren't going to turn a profit (much to Jen's chagrin) because it's too late to do an online sale and ship the tickets to somebody. And since I don't want a "Sports Editor Arrested For Scalping" headline to be in Saturday's paper, I'm not about to work a corner outside of Alltel.

Luckily, Dad's extensive contacts came through. I just unloaded the tickets for what we paid for them (including shipping and handling) to one of Dad's buddies.

The StubHub e-mails haven't stopped yet. I got two while typing this post.

First time for everything

Jen and I have been married nearly eight years. We've been together almost 10 years total.

For the first time that either of us can remember, she is sick. Might be a light touch of the flu. Might be a bad cold. But she's feverish, getting chills, has a cough and feels congested.

I'm not sure what to do, other than offer to run to Walgreen's to get whatever she wants. It's going to be rough though, because it's state basketball tournament week and I'll be at the office most nights. Plus I'm getting more dental work done Wednesday morning as Dr. Saviers begins fitting me with bridgework to replace my now-removed freaky teeth.

Anyway, if any of y'all try calling and she doesn't answer the phone it's because she's buried underneath flannel sheets, a comforter, a fleece blanket and a 40-year-old quilt that weighs about 10 pounds.