Smug Marrieds: Random Post

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Cleaning off my desk today, I found I note I'd made to myself this past winter for a blog post. Blair and I are the typical couple in that I'm always cold and he's always hot. We're in a constant battle over the thermostat and when we'd go to bed in the winter, I'd complain about the sheets being freezing cold.

I've always wanted flannel sheets but Blair protests that he'd flat out melt in the bed if we got them. So we go to bed one chilly winter night and I'm kicking the sheets with my legs, trying to generate a warm spot. 

"If you ever die, I'm getting flannel sheets," I said. I turned and smiled at him. "Do you ever think about things like that? Like the small, simple changes you might make if I died?"

A slow grin spread across my husband's face. "Daily." 

Huumph. I think I remember now why I decided not to post this...

What Would the CVS Clerk Say About YOU?

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Blair and I need passport photos to attach to our visa applications to enter Russia. Blair went to CVS last night for his and I followed this morning.

After the girl snapped the photos, she pulled the pictures up on a screen. Along with my photos were the pictures of the last few people whose photos she'd snapped.

"That's my husband," I said pointing to Blair's picture.

The clerk clutched a hand to  her heart and turned to face me, her face melting in a soft little "Oh" of admiration. "That's your husband? He is the nicest man. He had to wait around for me to get his picture and he was so patient and kind about it."

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Why We Don't Talk: Smug Married Perspective

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For the past two years I've referred to Blair's car as "The Deathtrap." It was a Lexus in a former life, but it's now a molting green blob that sheds car parts according to the season. Blair and I both pride ourselves on driving our cars into the ground, but even I'm willing to call it quits on this one.

Blair insists it's safe and that the problems are only cosmetic. Whatever. I just don't feel safe riding in a car that takes 5 minutes for the dash lights to warm up and come on, the wood trim paneling comes unglued, the mirrors no longer work (rotate), and it looks like a Jack-the-Ripper wanna-be had a go at the seats with his knife kit. 

To my horror, Blair actually drives co-workers around in this monstrosity when they go to lunch. I can only assume that since he's their boss, they're afraid of losing their jobs if they admit to their fear and say no. 

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Kabocha Squash

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Kabocha Squash. Ever heard of it? I found a recipe for roasted Kabocha squash on my new favorite website, Heather Eats Almond Butter, and have been longing to try it. One problem: kabocha squash was nowhere to be found. I searched Earth Fare, Food Lion, Harris Teeter, Fresh Market and even (I was desperate) Wal-mart. Nothing. 

I whined to Blair about not being able to find it. 

"That's because it doesn't exist," he said.

"What do you mean it doesn't exist?" I asked. "Of course it exists. There's a recipe for it."

"You vegetarians are so easy to con," he said.

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