important thoughts to live by…especially when you’re tired.

I had a very long day today after a very long night last night.  Maybe I'm just a little punchy, or maybe these things are important life lessons.  Either way, I hope you enjoy them!

 

Never assume that a puppy is finished going potty.  For some strange reason, puppies have an infinite ability to pee on the floor. Usually behind a chair.

Never run out of paper towels when you have a puppy.

Never take a puppy outside without your shoes or pants on. Not even when you are just too tired to put them on.  Not even at night.  This will ensure that said puppy will run into an area that requires you to give chase.  Shoes and pants are a must for this!

Never stay up so late that large quantities of caffeine are required to stay awake.  This will backfire on you at the end of the night.  And through much of the morning as well.

Always bring an extra shirt to the movies in case you spill your drink in your lap.  The shirt will soak up most of the liquid and cover the wet spot in your crotch.

Never spit your gum out of the window of a moving vehicle.  The wind will almost always change direction blowing the gum back into the car, and into your hair.  Probably somewhere that you can’t readily see or reach.

Always check the thread you are replying to before replying.  You might be sending a message meant for one person to a large group.  This could be very bad! 

Always check the recipient of a text message before hitting send.  Simple errors can cause complex problems.

Never send or reply to emails when you are tired or drunk.  Or drunk and tired.  Or on medication. 

Always secure the lid to the blender BEFORE pressing the liquefy button.  Especially when the blender is full.

Never assume that because you didn’t go to bed until three am that the puppy won’t wake you up at four-thirty like every other morning.

Never write your blog while you are partially unconscious from lack of sleep. 

Never ask your husband to post your blog for you while you are unavailable to edit said blog.  The results could be disastrous.

Never stay up all night long two nights in a row!

Until the next time…I’ll be sleeping! A lot!

 

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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News from the front...of the Vampire War...

These updates are posted as they were sent/received on 06/29-30-2010. My name is Michael C. Dean and my wife is a social vampire phenomena victim. I love her and I carry on my own vigilance for what I believe at http://www.suburbhomesteader.com/

My wife's life this evening is spelled out below:

Blog update 7pm:

Arrived at the theater at 5:30. Line already wrapped around the lobby. People at the front had pillows and blakets. Nice to know my obsession has healthy limits. Twilight (1st movie) to start in 15 minutes. Its gonna be a long night!

Update 815:

1st movie half over so of course it’s bathroom break time for the small bladder crowd. I can make it at least 2 more hours even if I am jacked up on diet coke popcorn and M&Ms.(Can’t see a movie without snacks right?)

Update 845:

Wet crotch while watching Twilight is from spilling Diet Coke in my lap. Twice! Didn’t anyone bring napkins?

Update 915:

First movie over and I really need to pee. But line will be horrible so I will wait. My plan is to break in the middle of New Moon so I will be prepared to enjoy Eclipse without interruption. Thanks to candy and caffeine, I am still wide awake. I will likely pay for this night for days!

Update 1015:

Still have to pee. Hard to drag myself away from the movie. Emergency bladder capacity kicked in. Will need to go soon. Eclipse doesn’t start til midnight. Good news is I’m still not tired

Update 1030:

Went to restroom finally. The lobby is insane! The sound is almost deafening. I’m very glad I’m in a nice comfy theater instead of still waiting for the midnight show in line. This might be as crazy as the time I shopped for Furbies at 4am on the day after Thanksgiving.

Update 1115:

Can hear the screaming through the walls. Over the sound of the 2nd movie. The other auditoriums are waiting for midnight. We are too, but we are at least distracted by the end of New Moon.  It like New Years Eve. The countdown is started and the Eclipse begins at the stroke of 12. It’s a good thing my bladder is empty!

Final Update:

2nd movie has ended and the mad rush for the bathroom and cigarette breaks for the crowd. I will be staying in my seat as patiently as I know how, waiting for the clock to tick down to midnight. After this update I will officially be on radio silence until sometime after 2am. I would like to thank my husband for posting the blog for me tonight. Love you honey!

See you in about three hours!

 

 

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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return of the roadside beaver

Back a month or so ago I wrote about a happy go lucky beaver that I saw along the roadside as I was sitting at a traffic light on my way to pick the girls up from a friend’s house.  He was eating someone’s unwanted French fries and just enjoying his life, and he became a metaphor for everything unhealthy in MY life.  He was just there to remind me to be happy and healthy and carefree.  And I was certain that I would never see him again.  Fate would take him from the world leaving nothing but an unattractive road ornament in his place. 

I was wrong.

The beaver was back!  I saw him again today…still foraging on discarded food scraps…still dancing perilously close to the fast moving traffic on the busy road…still reminding me that life is beautiful thing waiting to be lived…maybe even a little bit dangerously. 

Admittedly, I’m not much into danger.  I won’t drink milk after the sell by date.  I refuse to eat leftover pizza that wasn’t immediately refrigerated.  I won’t even honor the “five second rule” when I drop an M&M!

But I suppose there are other ways to take risks in our lives that don’t actually risk our lives.  Because, let’s face it, I’m not about to eat junk food found on the side of the road, and I’m not inclined to play on the edge of a busy street—no matter how exciting that might be! 

Still…I’m sure my life has many surprises in store for me that I haven’t even considered at this early stage of the game.  After all…I just got a new puppy.  And if that isn’t fraught with peril on a daily basis I don’t know what is!  I have a slight fear that I may not survive his infancy if he doesn’t let me get a little more sleep! 

And, I’m going to need a lot of extra sleep during the day tomorrow if I’m going to survive the insanity of the midnight opening of Eclipse tomorrow night. 

There are some risks that I am more than willing to take!

Until the next time…I’ll be standing in line!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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um…wasn’t there supposed to be a manual with this new puppy?

Chapter One: Are you ready for a puppy?

I bought a guide to raising the perfect puppy and read it from cover to cover.  Ok, so I skimmed chapter one.  I knew I was ready for a puppy.  I didn’t need someone whispering to me all the reasons NOT to get a puppy.  Or all the problems involved with owning a puppy.  I wasn’t born yesterday.  I’ve had puppies before, and I’ve successfully (so far) raised a few human children as well.  Although, at this moment in time, I will admit that I’m unsure which one is harder.  I certainly don’t remember my children attempting to chew the Persian rugs at a few weeks of age.  They may have attempted to set fire to them much later, but I was at least given some time to adjust to them before they became destructive. 

The puppy gave me exactly 24 hours before he decided that all bets were off and the house was his to do with what he liked.  First on my do to list tomorrow is a trip to the pet store for some bitter apple for the furniture and the rugs. 

Thankfully, his tirade only lasted a few minutes.  It was as if he had multiple personality disorder and he was channeling the yellow Labrador from that movie.  He’s back to being the sweet puppy I brought home yesterday, but I’m waiting for that crazy puppy to come back at any time.  I can’t let my guard down.  I need to sleep with one eye open.

Or stay awake all night—which is sort of what I did last night.  I was so pleased that the puppy went straight to his bed at eleven when Mike and I were ready to retire for the night that it never occurred to me that he would wake up promptly at four AM ready to party and to pee. 

Not necessarily in that order. 

So I walked the dark yard in my nightgown and my flip flops, certain that I was going to run across something in the dark that would freak me out far more than being outside in my pajamas.  After ten minutes amongst the mosquitoes and night crawlers, the puppy went potty in the grass.  Yay Indy!

I was ready to climb right back into bed.  So were the older dogs, who despite the early hour were perfectly willing to make an unexpected trip to the yard, but headed straight back to bed when they were done.   

Indy had other things in mind. 

Already I was a failure as a new mother.  My puppy did not sleep through the night.  He wanted to drink some water.  And play with a ball.  And drink some more water.  And play with a stuffed chicken.  And drool water into my lap. 

Thirty minutes later I noticed my puppy losing steam. 

I scooped him up and took him back to his bed.  He willingly climbed in and went straight to sleep. 

Apparently, my puppy snores…almost as loud as my husband.  And I was officially wide awake and it wasn’t even five o’clock in the morning yet.  I tried to fall asleep, and maybe I even did, but I had the sort of dreams that make you feel like you’re awake even when you’re not.  And then I was awake again.  It was six-thirty, and puppy was ready to get up. 

Another trip to the yard in my nightgown. 

This time without my flip flops because I couldn’t remember where I left them at four-thirty.  The sky wasn’t quite as dark this time.  It did have that eerie early morning look that I don’t recall seeing in quite some time.  Morning has never been my friend, especially THAT early in the morning. 

I think the puppy peed in the yard again, and I was happy to scoop him back up and take him back to bed.  He was less happy to go back to bed than I was to have him there.  His sleep schedule was quite obviously not in tuned with mine…or the other dogs for that matter.  They chose to skip the six-thirty yard run as the novelty of the nighttime trips had worn off two hours earlier.  They stayed in the comfort of their own beds, and I longed to stay with them. 

I did manage to get the puppy to go back to bed but it was short lived.  At seven-thirty he was hungry, and the sun was fully up this time, so the other dogs were more than happy to eat some food if I was willing to dish it up. 

It was a beautiful morning.  It wasn’t even that hot at seven-thirty.  I was so taken by the way the sky looked at that hour that I grabbed a rake and raked a few weeds and leaves while I was out there.  This must be what it’s like for real farmers on real farms…getting up early to feed the chickens…and milk the cows.  I don’t know…my husband might just be on to something after all.

Until the next time…I’ll be sleeping in shifts!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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how is getting a puppy like giving birth?

Is it even possible that I am sore all over from getting a puppy?  It’s not like I carried him around all day.  I only carried him around part of the day.  But tailing him throughout the entire house all afternoon trying to catch him in the act of peeing on the floor is exhausting. 

For over a week I have had this grand plan that I would pick up my ten-week old puppy and immediately embark on a training program that would make him the envy of all the other dogs in the neighborhood.  I might have to scale back my expectations just slightly. 

As of ten-thirty Saturday night, we are hit or miss on the potty training.  The wood floors were a hit, and the grass was a miss.  I did actually get him to go outside several times, but if the state of my paper towels is any indication (I’ve gone through an entire roll of the quicker picker uppers) we have a lot of work to do. 

I feel as if it may be a very long night!

On the other hand, he is just about the sweetest puppy ever.  After less than a few hours in the house, he was coming to his name, the other dogs had accepted him into the family, and the ninja kitty carefully stalked him while keeping a safe distance from the intruder.  Joey was kind enough to share one of his stuffed toys (he drew the line at sharing his tennis balls) and Cybil has allowed him to move about the house freely.  So he is definitely one of the family—and all things considered, he still pees on the floor less than Cybil, the geriatric incontinent Labrador. 

We named the puppy Indiana Jones—Indy for short—and he is already living up to his name.  He is quite the adventurer, as his birth family had informed me and I have now witnessed on my own.  There are a lot of things I never would have noticed that Indy has discovered on his archaeological digs.  It took me two hours to figure out how the Swiffer pad kept coming off the Swiffer wet jet.  Indy had pulled it off.  The Swiffer is now put away.  I may have to puppy proof a little more tomorrow. 

For now, I need to grab a nap while the puppy is sleeping.  He will probably get me up a few times in the night to “go out”.  Which roughly translates to, I will be standing in the yard watching him sniff the grass and chase the crickets and then cleaning up the mess on my floor. 

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a new baby…or a new puppy for that matter…I had forgotten how tiring it all is.  Tiring, but well worth it.  And if all the running around I did today is any indication, I will be losing weight too! 

I might need a new pair of flip flops.

Until the next time…I’ll be grabbing a few hours of sleep before the next diaper change!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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damn bug!

I found a body in my powder room this morning when I went in to clean.  It was a large rust colored corpse with many legs. 

The bug was belly up on the floor as if it had been attacked from behind by something with claws.  Kitty treats for everyone!  I didn’t want to think about it, so I quickly vacuumed the body and went about my cleaning.  

Fast forward a few hours later…I was on the complete opposite side of the house where I was loading the dishwasher for the first cycle of the day.  I opened the cabinet under the sink to fetch the dishwasher detergent when something rather large darted out. 

A mouse?

No…a bug!  A very big, Florida type bug!  Inside my house! 

It looked suspiciously like the corpse from this morning.  I ran for the vacuum.  I was going to suck him up and dump him back where he belongs…in the yard.  But when I got back with the vacuum, he was gone.  I did a quick search in the cabinet with no luck.  I scanned the adjacent cabinets and the floor.  No bug.  But I was certain he was still there somewhere.  Hiding.

New mission for the day: Find the damn bug!

After several hours of scouring the lower cabinets in my kitchen with a strong solution of organic “green” environmentally safe cleanser (if my husband asks that’s what I used), there have been no further bug sightings.  I’m convinced that he is still hiding, waiting for nightfall so that he can creep around the baseboards in search of whatever it is bugs search for along the baseboards in the dark of night.  He won’t find it.  I’ve cleaned the heck out of my kitchen.  There is nothing for a bug to feast on, nowhere safe to hide.  My cats are on patrol, and he will be found.  Oh yes, he will be found.

I have a thing about bugs.  Not quite a phobia, but definitely a strong dislike.  And finding two in one day (even if one of them was dead) constitutes a bug problem in my book.  It’s all this rain we’ve been having—and the ridiculous heat—driving the little creatures into my house.  But I refuse to obsess over a damn bug.  I’ll leave that to the cats.

I have other things to obsess over. 

My new OCD fixation of having a sparkling clean house is paying off.  My husband is thrilled with the results.  Everything seems more balanced and stress free in our house.  Still, it has its moments.  I had to restrain myself from cleaning the shower again at midnight last night.  I didn’t do it…I may have OCD, but I’m not crazy. 

Maybe a little crazy.

I put a plastic fork in the dishwasher today.  I wasn’t even planning on saving it, but I didn’t want to throw it away dirty.  I don’t know why, but it just seemed like the thing to do.  Although with this bug problem, I suppose I can’t be too careful about having food items in the trash.  Mike has me composting everything that is compostable.  Apple peels and egg shells are.  Plastic forks are not.  So I took it out of the dishwasher and threw it the trash. 

Tomorrow is the day the new puppy comes home.  I feel almost like I’m having a new baby.  I bought him a new bed, and a new collar, and a new leash, and I have thoroughly puppy proofed the house.  Now I just have to get a good night’s sleep so I can get up at seven-thirty to make the two plus hour drive to the remote reaches of Tennessee to pick him up.  I shouldn’t complain.  My husband drives that long to get to work most days.  Atlanta traffic and all that.  But still, I’m not used to getting up that early.  I think I’ll shower tonight.  And if I shower, I’ll probably have to use that daily shower cleaner to make sure the shower stays clean.  It’s a vicious cycle.  But hey, I’m on a roll!

Until the next time…I’ll be puppy proofing the car!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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maybe just one…

A wise old friend once told me that I should drink more.  And an even wiser family member said that it was the best advice ever.  I wouldn’t be very smart if I was disregarding good advice everyday…would I?

But a smart girl doesn’t mix drugs and alcohol.  So I’m skipping the medicine tonight and having a few (light) drinks.  As anyone who knows me well will tell you…I’m a light drink kinda girl. 

I’ve got to say…the best part about taking advice is when it works.  I feel completely relaxed this evening.  And it was a busy day too. 

Alexa started her new job today. 

She’s working at my favorite shop, My Girlfriend’s Boutique, in Kennesaw, Georgia.  The very place I bought the crazy pink sweater. 

The best part about her having a job is that she doesn’t tell me how bored she is all day.  Summer is a double edged sword.  The kids are chomping at the bit to have school over, but the minute summer break starts, they complain about having nothing to do.  So I have become the unofficial “cruise director” for the teenagers.  And I’m running out of ways to disguise housework as a fun activity.

Today I managed to squeeze a few hours out of the day to have lunch with my sister and hit up the pharmacies for more coupon deals.  She had to show me all of her “loot” from her morning of shopping.  I imagine it’s pretty funny to see two grown women leaning over the trunk of a car checking out the piles of deodorant, tampons, and body wash like some sort of bizarre drug deal gone very wrong.  We probably looked like we’d robbed a drug store.  It would almost be funny to have a policeman try to investigate the scenario as we tried to shield the goods from view—not because there is anything illegal about deodorant, but it does melt in the hot sun. 

My sister may have gone a little overboard with her purchases.  She did very well on the savings, but she doesn’t even wear contacts.  What is she going to do with two bottles of contact solution?  I didn’t even ask.  I didn’t want to ruin her shopping buzz.  I just said goodbye as she zoomed off to find another pharmacy to plunder with her rolodex of coupons. 

I had every intention of ignoring the house today after the thorough cleaning I gave it yesterday, but after being outside long enough to feel the effects of the ninety-plus degree weather, I decided that I would find something to do in the air conditioned house.  Climbing a ladder to clean the tops of the kitchen cabinets would ordinarily be the last place you would find me, but not today. 

Today that was exactly where I was.                       

It’s amazing how much grease finds its way to the tops of the cabinets.  Even completely across the room from the stove!  And the grease on the top of the cabinets is much harder to clean than any other grease I’ve ever cleaned.  It’s a very good thing I had nothing better to do today than to climb a ladder and wash the tops of my cabinets.  Who knows how bad it would have gotten if I had cooked bacon even more time!

Tomorrow I’ll have to clean the counters and floors again.  I’m sure bacon grease dust found its way down there today.  And I need to finish puppy proofing the house before Saturday.

But for now, I’m just relaxing with my husband.  I’ve had my one blueberry lemonade wine cooler and I’m feeling the effects of the thimble full of alcohol that was probably in there.  (I told you I was a lightweight.)  I’ll probably sleep well.  And a good night’s sleep is exactly what the doctor ordered. 

Until the next time…I’ll be dreaming of my new puppy!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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you might have OCD if…

I may just be getting into this whole “housewife” thing a little too much.  I decided this right about the time I was scouring the shower (for the third time this week) while I was actually taking a shower.  I thought it was a good idea at the time—multitasking, you know.  And my shower is really, really clean now.  But maybe I should try to slow down.  Relax a little. 

I can relax tomorrow.

Today, I was on a roll.  I have vacuumed my floors at least twice.  I may have vacuumed one room three times.  But it’s deep into shedding season and my remaining Labrador and my two long haired cats are shedding like mad! It seems as if the minute one room is clean, I see a fast moving tumbleweed of cat fluff rolling by, and I feel this sudden compulsion to get it!  That’s when I run to get the vacuum and quickly suck it up!  There is just no way to get it all.  I have to face that fact. 

I dusted every surface that I could reach without climbing up a ladder.  It’s amazing how high cat hair can climb without the cat attached to it.  I’m not sure where the cat hair stopped and the spider webs started.  It’s a good thing I was home to get them.  And it’s a good thing my vacuum attachment has a long reach. Who knows how long they were up there!  These things tend to build up when you work all day and don’t have the time to clean every inch daily. 

Being a wife/mother/writer is a definitely a full time job!  Even if the pay isn’t great.

Pay or no pay…I’m working on making my house cleaner than the day I moved in!  As of right now, I don’t have a single dirty dish left to wash.  The laundry has been done, folded, and put away.  Even the cat boxes have been cleaned and washed.  I would have washed the cats if I could have caught them.  And if I had the proper tools I would have swept out the chimneys.  It’s that time of year after all. 

I never knew that I was a neat freak until I took a medical leave from work.  It just goes to show…there may be a little neat freak in all of us. 

Then again…it could be all the blood pressure medicine I’ve been taking. 

I ran into a friend at the grocery store today, and she suggested I take up drinking.  Apparently it’s good for stress relief and keeping that OCD at bay.

I don’t know…it could work…but I think I’ll leave the drinking to those who don’t know how to properly use their OCD.  I’ve got mine completely under control!

Time to clean out the refrigerator!

Until the next time…I’ll be rearranging the vegetable drawer!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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time to adopt?

It’s official.

I won’t be needing any soap, body wash, deodorant, feminine hygiene products, laundry detergent, shampoo, or conditioner for at least six months. 

I can’t say that will stop me from getting more if the price is right…and lately the price has been quite right—free!

Ok, free may be a slight exaggeration, but for example, I walked into my favorite drug store today with twenty dollars and when I left I still had five, and I also had four boxes of tampons, five Old Spice designer deodorants, one Gillette Fusion shave gel, six bottles of assorted men’s scented Gillette and Old Spice body wash (three of which can also be used as shampoo), and seven Butterfinger candy bars.  Oh, and I had $14.50 in store credits too.

And before you ask…no I didn’t steal anything.  I used my new skills in couponing combined with the weekly sales to maximize my purchases. 

My husband wasn’t convinced. 

I had to lay everything out on the bed and pull out a calculator to show where the money had gone, and what I was left with.  He is now officially impressed.  

And he smells very nice too!

My reward for all my brilliant shopping? 

I get to have a new baby!

Well…I’m allowed to get a new puppy.

I can’t wait.  With my son completely moved out, along with the grandpuppy, and my poor Lady missing from the family, things are getting a little quiet around here.  I’m not necessarily against quiet, but a little excitement can be good for the soul.  And if I can’t have another baby (and I’m pretty sure I can’t) a puppy will have to do.  I’m fully prepared to train him, and walk him, and feed him, and clean up after him all by myself!  After all…isn’t it my turn?

Until the next time…I’ll be puppy proofing my house!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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do they use old socks to make sour dough?

Success at last!

My aunt Leona was kind enough to send me a quart of her famous “sour dough bread starter” this weekend, and I couldn’t wait to try it out.  I have had the opportunity to sample her sour dough bread on many occasions, often fresh from the oven, and I can say without any reservations that it is the best sour dough bread I’ve ever eaten.  My ability to make it for myself, however, was somewhat suspect as I carefully read the directions while my husband poured the ingredients into the bowl. 

We both caught a whiff of the sour dough starter as I opened the jar and both gasped at the same time.  Sour dough starter smells like old socks.  And it looks like it may have had old socks soaking in it.  I was almost afraid it had gone bad, but it was supposed to be sour.  I could only hope it would make good bread.

We worked as a team, me keeping a vigilant watch over each component of the mixture, as Mike mixed them together carefully. 

I even took it upon myself to “feed” the starter as the recipe instructed. 

I watched Mike gently kneed the sticky dough to the exact specifications required before wrapping it up for the eight hour wait while the dough doubled in size. 

I couldn’t help myself.  I checked the dough every so often to see if it was rising.  It was like that saying about a watch pot never boiling.  The dough didn’t look any different to me.  It was still just a sticky bowl of goop every time I peeked. 

“It hasn’t been long enough yet.” My husband repeated each time I complained that the dough ball was the same as the last time I looked.

This went on throughout the day until he took me out of the house to distract me. 

I quite enjoy distractions.  We picked up a few necessities at the local all purpose store, and shopped around for things we didn’t need (and didn’t buy.) When we got back home, we walked out to the garden to inspect the tomatoes and the other assorted plants that I can’t yet identify. 

I showed Mike where I wanted the pond to go, and where the greenhouse should be, and where I would like the chickens to be housed.  All things we are tossing around as possibilities for Mike’s Suburb Homesteader project.  But in the end, we just watered the tomatoes and the assorted unknowns, and went back to the house. 

The dough was noticeably larger by then, but still not ready to be kneeded again.  We had not timed our bread making in an ideal manner.  By the time we started this project, we were looking at almost midnight for the bread to be ready to kneed, and then four to six hours later it would need to go into the oven. 

Now, neither of us had a problem with staying up until midnight.  That is an easy feat.  Waking up at four, five, or even six AM, on the other hand…not so easy! 

It is no secret that I am not a morning person.  In fact, I am the direct opposite of a morning person. 

Mike woke up with the bread.  And once he was up, he had to put the bread into the oven and wait another thirty five minutes for it to bake.  It was sort of like having a baby. 

Maybe not like a baby.

Mike woke me up before he left for work.  He decided that I needed to be a productive member of society…or something like that.  He said I need the practice being a morning person. 

The first thing I did was to sample the bread.

It was almost as wonderful as Aunt Leona’s very own bread.  It was baked just a few minutes too long, and maybe it had risen for just over four to six hours, but it was wonderful.  And we had two wonderful loaves just ready for the cutting.                  

The teenage girls loved the bread.  In fact, they loved that it had been made in our very own kitchen.  They like having me home during the day baking bread and cooking meals.  Even if that means they have to help out.  We may just have to bake bread again tomorrow.  I think we’ll start in the morning this time…so no one has to get up in the middle of the night with the bread baby.  Who knows…maybe we’ll even experiment with the recipe a little, just for fun.

Until the next time…I’ll be practicing this whole “morning” thing at the farmer’s market.

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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is that you norman?

I haven’t been in the same city as my father for some time now.  We talk quite frequently.  Thank goodness for modern technology, and Facebook.  Still…I wish we lived closer, and that life didn’t always pull us in different directions, but I am very lucky to have a father who has imparted great wisdom, and great humor into my genetic makeup, in addition to the kidney stones.

I decided that instead of coming up with a montage about my dad over the years, I would just share one particular story that sort of came to me this morning.  It brings back a lot of fun memories, and sums up a very important time in our lives.

Back before my figure filled out, and while my sister was still considered a sweet little girl, we played a sport called Racquetball.  It’s still played in certain circles, and it’s still pretty popular in many places, but where I live now it’s virtually nonexistent.  I haven’t played in many years, but once upon a time, it was intricately woven into the fiber of our lives. 

I wasn’t a bad player.  My balance may have hindered me somewhat—I had a lot of twisted ankles back then—but I could hold my own in a competition.  My sister, on the other hand, was a champion.  She lived and breathed the sport, spending hours practicing and strategizing her game plan before every tournament.  And we played in a lot of tournaments.  If memory serves, we may have played at least one tournament every month. 

We lived in Rochester, New York at the time, and we would frequently travel several hours to other cities to compete.  These tournament weekends usually required an overnight stay, and those were almost always spent in a local motel. 

One noteworthy weekend found us in Syracuse, New York.  I would have been about fifteen years old, and my sister would have been about twelve.  As usual, the tournament started on a Friday night and would continue for the next two days.  I don’t remember the specific reasons why my father had not reserved a motel for the night; I just remember that we didn’t have a reservation anywhere that night.

Syracuse was only a little over an hour away, so Dad may have planned on driving back home for the night, and coming back in the morning.  But as it turns out, our matches were scheduled for very early the next morning, so we had to stay the night. 

There were no vacancies at any of the local motels.  We were very lucky to find a little motor lodge close to the racquet club and I remember it being a rainy night when my father ran into the office to reserve a room. 

It wasn’t a chain hotel.  It was one of those little family run places where the rooms lined up in a long row facing the road and the doors opened directly to the parking lot.  It reminded me of the Bates Motel.  I even joked with my father about Norman Bates renting him the room, and he joked that it must have been Mrs. Bates, because it was an old woman who took his money in the office.

I didn’t know it then, but looking back, it was probably one of those types of motels that rent a room by the hour as well as the night. 

Dad got the key and let us into our room. 

The three of us—my dad, my sister, and I— stood open mouthed in the middle of the spooky little room surveying our surroundings.  A layer of dust covered every surface of the room.  The carpets were darkly stained.  The curtains were drawn to block out the view of the parking lot and the main road beyond.

My father decided to relieve the tension by turning on the television, but when he turned the knob all of the controls fell inside the TV cabinet.  There would be no TV that night. 

My sister and I put our bags on the bed and she sat carefully on the dirty bedspreads while I checked under the bed for a body.

I didn’t find a body, but I found several empty beer bottles.  That discovery drove me to investigate the rest of the room. 

In the main room there was an ashtray filled with cigarette butts on the nightstand.  In the bathroom, the sink was covered in rust, a line of ants trailed from one crack in the floor to another across the small room, and the toilet had not been flushed since the last person had used it. 

It WAS the Bates Motel!

My sister and I slept in our clothes with our racquets in the bed beside us.  I later found out that my father didn’t sleep at all.  He lay in the other bed with one eye open the entire night. 

We were pretty tired the next day when we had to play.  I don’t remember if we won or lost.  It doesn’t really matter anyway.  The thing I remember most about that weekend was laughing for days about the scary little motel we stayed in.  It was one of the moments in my life where I learned that you have to find something positive in the most negative things.  And if you laugh at the bad things, they really aren’t so bad anymore. 

It’s a pretty good lesson in life I think.

Until the next time…I’ll be laughing at the bad things until they don’t exist anymore!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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finally...something funny for a change!

Funny is as funny does.

My husband asked me the other day why my blogs have been so dry lately.  And I don’t think he meant that he wanted them to be wet…he wanted them to be more funny.  Flooding the stove was pretty funny…and pretty wet…but who can flood a stove every day?  Oh, I probably could…but would I really want to? 

No, not even for the laughs. 

The truth is things have just been slow around here lately.  I haven’t waxed any poles in a while.  In fact, I’ve learned my lesson about the whole waxing thing…especially the bikini waxing…so don’t expect me to attempt THAT again.  I haven’t flooded anything, attempted any bizarre diets using chopsticks, or bought any new omelet pans. The girl scouts aren’t due to curse the town again until next spring.  And it’s just too hot to wear the crazy pink sweater. 

So what is the key to being funny?  I try to be as honest as possible without giving too much information (otherwise my family may disown me.)  I’ve shared some pretty funny (i.e. embarrassing) moments directly out of the pages of my very own life, and I’ve done it with what I like to call grace.  It’s as close as I can come to grace anyway, as I have never been very graceful.  I’ve written over 150 blogs now.  They can’t all be funny.

I guess I just need to get out there more.  Stop being such a homebody, and find something adventurous to do. 

Sometimes things just happen for a reason.

Today was a great day.  The kind of day I haven’t had in ages, and it was wonderful.  My sister invited Mike and me to spend the day swimming at her house.  My mother had driven down for the weekend, and my niece was visiting too, which made it a fairly large family affair—even if we were still missing a few of the regular characters. 

The challenge for the day was a combination of “raft races” and “sit on the ball.” 

Raft races are somewhat self explanatory.  My sister has inflatable pool rafts, and the name of the game was to stay on the raft while crossing the pool faster than your competitor.  The trick of it was to mount the raft from the water. 

I found this to be an impossible task. 

I have managed to fail at balance games on the Wii Sports Resort video game…why would anyone think I could pull off balance in the wild? 

I never managed to successfully mount my raft. 

I first tried to tackle it from the side, much like getting on a horse.  I was able to hoist myself out of the water and pull myself across the center, but never could manage the turn to throw my leg over the side to lie down.  I flipped the raft and gave up that angle.

Next I tried to pull myself from the end, attempting to slide my body up the raft until I was at the head.  I never made it out of the water further than my waist.  The more I pulled and kicked my legs, the more out of control the raft became.  It was akin to mounting a saddle-less horse that had been thoroughly rubbed down with Vaseline.  Not that I have ever attempted to mount a Vaseline coated horse, but amazingly, I have attempted to mount a horse without a saddle.  Vaseline or not…it was a failed attempt. 

As was my attempt to mount the raft.

My mother cheated.  She climbed aboard her raft from the pool steps, where she could both steady it, and climb up from a higher vantage point.  As usual we let her get away with it with little more than a few choice comments.  She wasn’t going to win the race regardless. 

In fact, she wasn’t really able to propel herself across the pool at all.  So my sister decided to play “bumper rafts” instead.  It was like a game of raft “chicken” as my sister crashed her raft into Mom’s again and again, attempting to knock her into the water. 

While my sister was battering my mother’s raft with gusto, I was attempting our other pool skill…sit on the ball. 

My sister has a beach ball in her pool that has been inflated to the maximum.  The game was to tuck the ball under your rear and sit on it in a floating position without letting the ball up for air, but without holding it between your legs. 

My mother cheated at that too.  She secretly deflated the ball slightly under the water and held it between her legs.  She still couldn’t keep it under for the full 60 second minimum. 

I captured the ball after it had been fully re-inflated and tucked it under my behind to attempt the balancing skill in the deep end of the pool.  Just pushing the ball under the water took some degree of physical strength.  Balancing it under me like a floating cushion was another task altogether.  This was a task that I could pull off.  Despite being balance challenged, I have good posture, and this was more about maintaining good posture by holding the seated position without shifting.  I passed the one minute marker and went for the five minute marker. 

I pushed the envelope a little further and attempted to cross the pool while seated on the inflated ball.  I made it all the way across and turned to go back.  Somewhere in the middle, my balance shifted slightly.  The ball that I was so completely in control of just a moment earlier became a volatile creature squirming beneath me. 

I felt a twinge of concern.  I wanted to win the challenge—that was part of it—but moreover, I could feel the power of the caged ball fighting against the water pressure.  If it escaped me, it was going to break the surface with some force. 

When the ball did get away, it surged out of the water, hitting me in the face and sending me down where I took in a nose full of pool water. 

I didn’t drown.  I lived to try again.  And the point I was trying to make was that I managed to balance on a ball in the pool for more than ten minutes!  That must be some sort of record for me.

Unfortunately, a storm decided to move in about that time and we had to leave the pool for the safety of the inside.  All in all it was a great day.  We even went out to a Japanese steak house for a hibachi dinner.  I didn’t have hibachi…I had sushi…but I did managed to knock my glass of ice water onto the grill while the hibachi chef was cooking the rice. 

All balance points earned in the pool were immediately stripped from me. 

Oh well…at least I didn’t lose any of my sushi in the soy sauce.  And as for the day as a whole, I managed to infuse some of the “wet” into my blog that my husband must have inadvertently been referring to the day before.

I suppose I could try balancing again tomorrow.  It’s pretty good exercise.  Of course, tomorrow is Father’s Day, and my husband will get to pick the activities.  I will probably be pulling weeds in the yard or some other nature activity.  We can’t play in the pool every day after all.

Until the next time…I’ll be planning my Father’s Day blog (with plenty of sunscreen on!)

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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who knew doing dishes could be so dangerous?

Oh, I knew. 

I’ve had run-ins with dishes before.  Many times, far worse than today.  Luckily for me, I have a little experience in MacGyver-style field dressings.  And it’s a good thing too, because I’ve done it again.  Quite accidentally, I can assure you, I have sliced my finger open on the dishwasher. 

No, not on a knife, or broken dish—although I’ve done that far too many times before.  I’ve broken mixing bowls over my hand while washing them, sliced myself while cutting vegetables, smashed a glass baking dish and then cut myself trying to catch it as it fell.  Yes, I am an expert at kitchen disasters.  But I have never once cut myself while opening the dishwasher.  I don’t even think I could recreate the accident if a tried. 

And I did. 

I tried to find the catalyst for my disaster with no luck.  It was just one of those things that only seem to happen to me. 

Luckily (again) I was taught “do it yourself” medicine by one of the best—my mom.  As a nurse, Mom was always prepared for the common cuts and scrapes with disinfectant, and some toilet paper and Scotch tape!  I don’t know why we never seemed to have band aids at home when I was a kid, but in keeping with the family tradition, I whipped out the Charmin and piece of clear packing tape and got to work. 

I’m sure I’ll live.  It hurt pretty badly for a while, and it continues to bleed anytime I bump it too hard on anything (like my laptop keys or my other fingers.) But I’m pretty resilient.  I once taped a pretty nasty cut closed with the sticky parts of several band aids, instead of getting stitches.  I mean, who has time for a trip to the emergency room?  Not me!

I suppose this means I’m actually very well equipped to move to the farm.  Or Bosnia.  Either way, I’m pretty good at dressing wounds.  My own anyway. 

When I wasn’t slicing and dicing my extremities today, I was organizing and doing laundry.  I’ve yet to discover a way to cause trouble or get injured folding clothes, but it it’s out there, I promise I will find it.  And when I do, I’ll be sure to let you know!

Until the next time…I’ll be checking pockets for sharp objects…very carefully!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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gotta love that simple life

One of the best parts of having OCD is the focus it gives you when you find a new obsession. 

I would definitely say that I have functional OCD.  It’s the good kind, not the bad kind.  I’m nothing like Howard Hughes, but even Howard Hughes wouldn’t have been the genius that he was without a healthy dose of that OCD. 

I have jumped on the couponing bandwagon with a new level of enthusiasm.  Despite my husband’s initial irritation with my new endeavor, he is thoroughly impressed with the amount of money I have saved.  In the past few days I have saved over $125, while at the same time stocking the house with enough soap, laundry detergent, deodorant, shampoo, feminine hygiene products, toothpaste, and assorted other necessities to last at least six months. 

This has all become a large part of operation “simple life”.  Mike has spent hours working in the garden so that we can be semi self-sustaining at home.  So my part of the project is to make the house run like an old fashioned household.  I haven’t eaten in a restaurant in days.  I’ve shopped with a collection of coupons that has impressed all that have seen the layout spread across my breakfast table.  I’ve cooked the meals at home.  Even the kids are excited about the home cooking. 

The whole thing has managed to kick a new thought into my focus. 

Owning a working farm in the mountains. 

I have spent countless hours pouring over internet listings for land and farms.  This is one fixation my husband is perfectly happy to indulge.  He would love nothing more than to move to a farm in a remote area.  Where he could grow his own food, raise goats for the milk to make cheese, and live off the land—and off the grid.  It has become his dream…and my new obsession.

Unfortunately, this obsession will have to wait. 

We have a lot that needs to be accomplished here in Atlanta.  I had better get started!

Until the next time…I’ll be clipping more coupons…maybe I can save enough to buy a farm!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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so what's wrong with being a housewife?

Operation simple life is finally swinging into action!

Today was a day filled with a back to basics mentality.  Mike had to work from the office, Spencer is still not living here anymore (I will keep you updated on that, as we all know things like this can change at any minute) and the girls were off with friends (again!)

Not that I’m complaining.  I’m actually sort of enjoying this simple life. 

No work, no kids, no husband.  And I had a plan.

I got up at a reasonable hour, took a shower, and got dressed.  And then I headed straight into the kitchen to do the dishes.  Then I vacuumed and mopped all the floors.  Then I sat down to clip coupons.  All kinds of coupons.  From three different newspapers.

Two hours later…I had a crick in my neck and my back hurt from sitting, but I was ready to save some serious money!

Back to the local pharmacy—keepers of my multiple prescriptions—where I used my coupon expertise combined with the weekly sales to save close to $50 in one trip.  Then I was off to the local grocery to pick up a few things for dinner (and a few things on sale) and I saved almost $20 more. 

All in all it was a pretty good haul!

And after saving so much money, I was ready to expand my “simple” life into cooking dinner.  A real home cooked meal. 

Thanks to my husband and his burgeoning garden, we now have a wide variety of produce available at all times.  Not all of this is grown on our property, but in anticipation of the day when we are producing most of our food, we are practicing by cooking with lots of fresh, locally grown vegetables. 

I took the summer squash, the onions, the zucchini, the peppers, the tomatoes, fresh garlic, and one eggplant and created an old fashioned French ratatouille for dinner.  It was fabulous! My husband was thrilled to come home to a meal that I cooked using vegetables that he chose.  The only thing that would have made it better would have been if I had used only vegetables we had grown ourselves.  Maybe in a few months time we can accomplish that. 

The rest of the evening was spent relaxing in front of Planet Green on the television. 

As I settle in for the night, I can hear the rumblings of a storm off in the distance.  What a perfect end to a perfect day…

Until the next time…I may just attempt bread again tomorrow! 

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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what's just one more?

Life is interesting sometimes.  Just when I think I have it all figured out, someone changes the rules on me.  But the truth is…like my dad used to say…life doesn’t have any rules.

After a horrendous Monday (high on the scale of bad Mondays) I had a pretty good Tuesday.  Sometimes you just have to shake off that feeling that everything has to work out perfectly, and just adjust to the way things are going to work out.  Perfect or not, it’s still my life, and in the grand scheme of things, I’m pretty happy. 

Melissa and Vivian came over for lunch today.  I had been missing my “girls” lately.  We haven’t had much of an opportunity to get together and do girlie things lately.  But our other adventures, (as in our evening at “pole waxers”) are now legendary.  I would like to say it’s time for our next adventure, but that may just have to wait a while.  In the mean time, we will be trying to squeeze in these weekly lunches where we can. 

Melissa and I made our world famous spinach and goat cheese pizza.   It may not sound all that appetizing to some, but it was delicious.  We even fought over the last piece!  Don’t get too excited, it’s not like we actually fought, as in rolled around on the floor pulling hair and biting.  It was more like musical chairs.  The music stopped and there was no more pizza for me.  I didn’t really need that third piece anyway.  I’ve been trying to be good, but my daughter has forced me to eat donuts two days in a row!  It’s straight up oatmeal for me in the morning.

There are no kids at home tonight.  It’s been another quiet evening at home as “practice” empty nesters.  It is seriously making me think about the future.  I’ve always considered “mother” to be my most important job, and suddenly being faced with the reality that your children grow up and move away has made me contemplate what life will be like without them running around the house all day. 

I guess I could just start over…I mean, hey…what’s one more, right?

Until the next time…I’ll be thinking about getting a puppy instead.

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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you want me to bake what?

I cannot bake bread.  Or better said…Today I sucked at baking bread.  Well, the baking part was fine—mostly.  I did burn one loaf, but I will blame that on the timer that didn’t go off (because I never set it).  My bread did not turn out right, mostly because of other factors. 

One: My husband started four loaves last night and expected me to take over in the morning.

Let’s face it…I do not have a stellar record in the kitchen.  I have set fire to things, flooded the stove, not to mention dropped, spilled, and burned things far too many times.  It was not a smart choice to have me try to bake four loaves at once when I have never baked bread before.  We should have started with one!

Two: I think the recipe was stupid.  It was a “no kneed” bread that certainly seemed to need some kneeding if you ask me.  It didn’t rise as it should have.  It created bread that was far too dense and spongy.

I didn’t pick the recipe.  My husband got it from one of his “all natural” websites, and it was supposedly studied and perfected.  It was not studied or perfected in my kitchen today!

Three: We did not have the proper tools.

This bread was supposed to be baked in a Dutch oven.  We have an American oven.  And…yes I know what a Dutch oven is, but we still didn’t have one, so I had to use regular old bread pans.  This bread did not like regular old bread pans. 

I will say that it tasted pretty good, if you could get past the sponginess and the overall heaviness of the bread.  Mike said it will be good to feed to ducks.  If we had chickens, I’d bet they would eat it.  But we have no chickens. 

At least it was cheap to make.

My husband is going to have to work way harder if he wants me to become an Amish housewife!  I just don’t see that happening. 

And did I mention that bread dough is very sticky?  It gets between your fingers, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much flour you dust your hands or counters with…it will stick to everything!

Tomorrow I will be making pizza from scratch—spinach and goat cheese pizza—something I have done many times with great success.  It’s important to do something well.  Especially if you plan on eating it! 

It will be a group effort though, so I can’t take all the credit.  My best girlfriends (the posse) will be stopping by at lunch tomorrow.  It will be nice catching up.  I’ve been out of the loop for over a week now.  I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes!

Until the next time…I’ll be making pizza in my sleep!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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hair today...wig tomorrow

Another weekend is at an end, and it was a scorcher. 

I’m not here to comment on global warming, or whether it’s real or not…I’m just here to tell you that it was very hot this weekend.  I easily had to change my clothes more than once each day due to excessive sweat.  And people…I normally do not sweat! 

While Mike toiled in his magnificent garden (adding sweet peppers and beans to the mix, and doing the final prep on that pumpkin patch) I ran errands with the girls, seeking out things to save money on.  Things I wasn’t even planning to buy, had they not been on sale.  Of course, this was not the method I was attempting to use for my couponing, but it is all still a work in progress. 

I even had a chance to let Lauren do some driving for a change, after we dropped Alexa (now known as “The Road Warrior” for her reluctance to give up the driver’s seat) at a friend’s house.  Lauren doesn’t have the road hours of experience that Alexa has built up, and I seemed to forget that as she took the wheel.  It’s not that she is a bad driver, but she just isn’t as “seasoned” if you will. 

We missed a turn here or there, drove a little under the speed limit for most of the trip, and ramped up the stress level just a tad while she was driving.  But we did reach our destination with no injuries and she now has more driving experience.  Yay!

When we got home I had to take an extra dose of my blood pressure medication…but let’s not tell her that, shall we?

I stopped off this evening to visit Spencer at his new house.  My son is doing very well on his own.  I wish the same could be said for me.  I had not taken more than two steps inside his house when I saw a clump of human hair hanging on the banister.  I was slightly startled, but I truly thought it was something the boys had dragged out in early preparation for Halloween.  The dogs were greeting me at the door, and I wasn’t thinking straight so I said, “Oh…hey someone left their hair here.”  I swear that I had no idea that Spencer’s roommate’s mother wears a wig.  Or rather, wasn’t wearing her wig at that exact moment.  And to my horror, there she was, just out of my eyesite, smiling at me.  I could see the internal groans on the faces of my offspring.  Oops?

I’m sure that will be something my kids drag out again in the future as one of those embarrassing, “Mom stuck her foot in her mouth again” moments.  Still, I thought I covered it up well.  I just said I was worried the dogs were going to get it.  Dogs do that!  My dogs would so have my wig ripped up on the floor in an instant!  If I wore a wig I mean. 

Nevermind.

These things just seem to happen around me.  I should seriously consider having a disclaimer tattooed across my forehead.  Beware of dangerous verbal diarrhea , or something like that.

Until the next time…I’ll be practicing my social graces on the cats.

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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those lazy days of almost summer

Another hot day in Atlanta.

All it took was a quick step out the front door and I think my skin may have melted off my bones. 

Maybe not.

But, it was hot.  It was so hot that the seventy-five degree setting on my central air conditioning felt icy.  It just reminded me how much I dislike Atlanta summers.  And it’s not even really summer yet!  Of course, I don’t hate it so much that I would pass up going out for a few hours to help celebrate the grand opening of my friend’s new swim school.  I just tried to hover in the only square of space that had air conditioning.

Most of the day is a big blur.  Saturdays are like that.  Especially when they swelter.  Mike and I made a quick trip to the local home improvement store, and a longer one to my favorite book store.  Nothing too exciting.  It was just the two of us all day.  Our empty nest summer is well under way. 

With no kids at the house to complain about it, Mike made a completely vegetarian dinner for us.  It wasn’t bad.  I even ate the roasted beets.  No ice cream today.  No treats of any kind. 

I have high hopes for tomorrow.

They don’t call them sundaes for nothing.

Until the next time…I’ll be catching up on some reading.

 

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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a penny saved is two pennies earned with double coupons!

And the day started out so promising!

I got up this morning to discover that my husband took my car to work today.  On the surface, that may seem fairly insignificant, but the underlying meaning is quite profound.  My car does not have air conditioning.  Oh, it has it I suppose, but it doesn’t work on a hot day, which ultimately renders it fairly useless.  But my husband’s car is wonderfully cold even on the hottest day.  And he needs that air conditioning. 

Atlanta traffic is the worst, and he works on the other side of town. He has a rather lengthy commute to get to work in the morning.  It takes him over an hour to make the drive most days, so I can only imagine that he arrived at work uncomfortably hot and sweaty. 

I didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, but it was a very hot day, and he didn’t want me to get overheated.  And I found that to be one of the sweetest sacrifices anyone has ever made for me. 

Sometimes it is the simple things that mean the most. 

Being a coupon clipper is NOT a simple thing. 

My sister has gotten me involved in something that should be illegal.  Oh, it’s not.  It’s perfectly legal to clip coupons and take them to the store, combining the weekly sales flyer with the coupons to save ungodly amounts of money.  It should, however, have a disclaimer printed somewhere in the Sunday paper that this practice is highly addictive, and can cause marital disharmony.

After his one plus hour commute back home in the mobile oven, my husband met me for dinner at one of our favorite places—I know…only one week in and we’ve already cheated on our no restaurant rule, but it was a Friday night, and I was so good all week! 

After dinner, I convinced him to accompany me to the local pharmacy to take advantage of the last night of the big sale.  He didn’t really want to go, but I told him it was crucial that he select all of the items that were for the man of the house, as I was completely unsure of what he would want.  He begrudgingly agreed, but after only a few minutes, he retired back to the car while I shopped.

My first stop was the shampoo aisle.  The John Freida shampoos were on sale—three for $15, with a $5 store credit for buying them…AND…there were coupons in the paper for the same shampoos giving you $7 off!  So essentially, I bought three large bottles of shampoo that normally run around $7 a bottle, for $1 each!  Is there anyway someone could NOT be excited about that?  AND I got $10 worth of tampons for $2, $25 worth of men’s deodorant for $6, toothpaste, woman’s razors (I lost track of my savings at this point) and assorted other things that I can’t even remember. 

After checking out and paying for my treasures, I was hot and sweaty from running up and down the aisles seeking out savings, but my excitement was barely containable.  I knew my husband would be so proud of me!

My husband was furious with me!

This store has only seven or eight aisles at the most.  And they aren’t long aisles.  It would seem completely impossible that I could have been in the store for over an hour. 

It was not impossible, as it turns out.

I did take a little time deciding which of the numerous shampoo formulas would be the right one.  And I couldn’t decide which of the men’s deodorants would be the best choice.  I can never decide which razors I like best.  And the toothpaste?  Again, there are too many choices.  To top it all off, the check-out lady had to re-ring the entire transaction after making a mistake in the computer system, but I was too excited by my savings to be annoyed. 

My husband was decidedly not excited.  My over bubbling of excitement on my savings did NOT rub off on him.  When I tried to tell him how much I saved, he said he didn’t care.

I was momentarily shattered. 

He didn’t care!

I’m still not quite over the slight, but I do sort of see his side of things.  I’m sure it wasn’t fun sitting in the comfortably cool, air conditioned car for an hour while I scavenged like a rabid squirrel inside the local pharmacy.  But in my mind, I’m still mulling over the fact that my husband loves me so much that he was willing to suffer two hours in an unbearably hot car, but he drew the line at waiting for an hour in an air conditioned one. 

I guess I just don’t understand men…after all these years. 

He says it’s just scary to watch a woman with OCD get hooked on something like couponing. 

I don’t care what he says…I saved a total of $72 on less than $100 worth of purchases.  I can’t wait to see what I can find in the grocery store tomorrow!  But I might just have to leave him at home when I go.

Until the next time…I’ll be the crazy lady with two buggies, a wad of crumpled up coupons, and three sales flyers, pushing people out of the way at the local Publix!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
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