Too Many Books

This summer, my family is planning to go on vacation together. My mom and dad, and my sister and her husband (along with one or both of their kids) are heading to Destin, Florida in July. Everyone is renting their own condo at a beautifulspice resort. Of course, the whole gang wants Mr. and Mrs. Amber Murphy to join them. See. Here's the thing. Hubs and I would never choose to go on vacation smack dab in the middle of the summer. Everything is more crowded, and everything is more expensive. However, the trip date revolves around my sister's nursing school schedule (ends in late May) and my niece's regular school schedule (she starts kindergarden in early August.) So, the date is non-negiotable. Hubs doesn't really want to go. He would rather do our own thing for vacay, and choose where and when we travel. Basically, he doesn't want to spend the money. It's true that our lovely tax return could be spent more wisely. We could put some of that money towar...

If i do consent to "trying harder" in the baby-making department, is it wrong to hope the kidlet arrives in the middle of March so I can take maternity leave during the basketball tournament next year? Is it weird that I haven't gotten my hair cut since last October, and am sort of procrasinating solely because I am obsessed with finding and splitting my split ends? Should I remember the last time I ate a god-honest vegetable? Is it bad that I used the phrase "flicking the bean" at work today? Should I be worried that I haven't changed my oil since I purchased my car in August? Is it wrong that as I type this, I keep shooting the husband mean faces every time he opens his mouth to say anything at all? (I'm busy, dude. Shutitspice.) Is it wrong that I didn't shave my legs on purpose today, because hubs called in sick to work and therefore is not entitled to sex tonight? (You remember, right. When you were a child and stayed home from school b...

This just happened, while I was sitting here reading blogs and my hubs was playing a shoot-em-up x-box game. (This whole scenario is also known as federal holiday: in which bankers get a paid day off .) Hubs: This guy I'm killing on here? His name is Zack Attack. Me: Is he aware that's the name of Zack Morris' band? (I just wanted to inform you that sometimes here at the musings of amber murphy headquaters, there actually are some really romantic moments.) Likely, I'm just feeling generous after getting flowers, a couple of IU tee-shirts (I think he finally got my "no jewelry" memo!) and being cooked a tasty medium-rare filet last night. Ohh, and there was a cheesy card, too, which, let's be honest, wasn't as good as a funny card would have been. How was your Valentine's Day? Did you eat chocolate? Was there passion?  Were you alone, even when you were with someone? Oh, hell. You all know me. It wasn't really as bad as all that.

Yesterday evening when I got off work the snow was coming down pretty hard and the wind was whipping it around -- biting cold, such a nasty, slushy day. I got gas (which was non-negotiable) and then pointed the car toward home, feeling crampy and exhausted and frozen-toed. I called the hubs as I always do after work. "Are you stopping for dinner?" he wanted to know. "No, I really just want to get home. The roads are not great." Etc. He was pissy all night because I wouldn't stop for fast food. (When I'm the one with the valid excuse to behave that way, what with the PMS and all.) When I turned onto our street I called again. He was parked curbside, and I wondered if I should do the same. He assured me that I should park at the top of the driveway. Let me give you a visual: our driveway is sort-of-hilly, like two flights of stairs with a landing between them. It slopes, then flattens, then slopes again. So, the point of the story is that he commande...