What do you do when ...

...someone breaks your husband's heart?
My husband, Secret Agent Man, as previously posted here, works for a Contractor that carries government contracts. He is not CIA, as some people like to pretend he is. But his job still carries a lot of weight and he and all his guys have to have security clearance. S.A.M. takes great pride in hand picking his guys and hiring only the best.
One of his fairly recent hires we had high hopes for. Last summer we had a BBQ and invited his crew, along with the New Guy and New Guy's wife. They seemed really nice. They seemed to be smart and funny and not all wrapped up in some of the petty left over high school crap that some guys in their 40's are still dealing with.

Boy, were we wrong.
New Guy turned out to be Major Asshole.

Over the past month or so he has done everything he possibly can to get his immediate boss in trouble, and his boss' boss (which would be my husband) and has even gone over all their heads to the Big Boss. Apparently he is trying to actively get them all fired by saying they authorized him to do illegal stuff. He has stolen, lied and compromised security for God knows what purpose. It's all coming out in the wash now, but the Asshole has managed to really upset my husband, who is the most upright, honest guy I've ever known. He is taking it personally, which he should.

So tonight after work, S.A.M. and his best bud went out for beers and hot wings and bitching. The more he drank, the more pissed off he got. The more pissed off he got, the more he drank. Which of course just caused him to get more upset. By the time we both got home (me from work) everything was just a big mess.
Anyway, after discussing how to perforate a kidney in a dark alley (just kidding on S.A.M.'s part. I hope.) and wanting to cut off Major Asshole's testicles and shove him down his throat (my idea, because he's obviously not man enough to deserve them) I finally got hubby calmed down. He even started singing (if you can call it that), "Cinnamon Girl" of all things.

I left him to get ready for bed, which he was doing in his bathroom (the "master" bathroom) and I went in mine (I have permanently commandeered the "guest" bathroom because the "master" is so small, so beware if you ever come to visit).
At this time, Our Missy Kitty comes upstairs because she's good at giving sympathy in the form of purrs and ankle rubs. S.A.M. starts talking to her and singing "Cinnamon Girl" to her and then I hear this:
"What Missy? You saw Neil Young in concert in Moosejaw in 1982? Really?"
pause
"...and you have the tshirt to prove it? Wow!"

I think he's going to be just fine.

Nothin' but Nothin' (and some pictures)

I am an insomniac.
This is nothing new, I have struggled with this off and on for the past 20 years or so of my life. Usually it kind of goes in phases: lasts a couple weeks then goes away. But I find as I get older (and entering that lovely pre-menopausal stage of my life [yes, yes, I know I'm old only 44 but it's happening nonetheless...]) the sleepless stages last longer and longer. Lately I've been having to drug myself a couple nights a week just to get a few measly hours.
Of course it doesn't help that I have a cat who likes to take showers in the middle of the night (no, sadly, I'm not joking) and because he can't reach the shower knob ('cause of course, even stretched out he's only about 2 1/2 ft tall...long?) so he slams doors and yowls and hollers until someone gets up and turns on the water. He has been known to do this sometimes 3 or 4 times a night.
(And no, we can't put him outside because he is declawed (I know, I know) and we have lots of coyotes and owls in our area and I do not want him becoming a late night snack.)

Hubs sleeps thru it all takes turns with me when he can. I get up in the middle of the night most of the time because he is a very sound sleeper (lucky duck). He usually is the one to get up around 430 or so, however, if/when that darn cat starts up again or decides he's hungry, or wants in the garage or whatever he thinks he needs. He is a very demanding little critter. Kind of like a 4 year old I'm guessing.

The cat. Not the husband.

Anyway, the point of this is that last night when I was laying awake for hours and hours I had this great idea for a post today.
Except now I can't remember what it was to save my life.
And no, it wasn't about skinning cats.
Although I thought about it...
Not really.

So instead you get some lovely pictures my dad took. So it's not all bad.
I believe these were taken in The Dalles, OR when the folks took their recent trip here to visit. I added some filters via the Pioneer Woman's "action sets". (Thanks PW and Totally Rad Actions).



ps> Just in case you think I'm telling a tall tale, here's a picture of the suspect brat cat I'm talking about. He walks in there, meows and then paws at the back of the shower until you turn it on, just slightly, so the water drips on him and gets him soaked. Then he jumps out and goes in the closet and takes a tongue bath to dry off. He's so weird.