Doug found a little piece of nostalgia this week when Grandma brought over toy soldiers “for the kids.” After separating these guys from Civil, Vietnam and both world wars, he set up an elaborate battle scene on our kitchen counter. My own personal battle—finding a way to remove it without him noticing.
Me: Can you do the dishes while I put the kids to bed?
Doug: I’d love to help you out, but today’s my anniversary.
Can you believe I’ve been putting up with this crap for eight years and counting?
Doug tried his hand at grocery shopping this week and came home with so many Knorr rice boxes we’ll have to build another addition just to store them.
“Why so many?” I asked.
“They were 10 for $10.”
“So? You don’t have to buy all ten to get the sale price.”
He shrugged. “I suck at math. What do you want from me?”
It gets worse, although I didn’t have the heart to tell him. There were twelve.
Doug and Tyler decided it’s time for a garden, and an entire produce aisle now flourishes on the side of our property. Eva thinks it’s “Daddy’s sandbox.” The dogs are ecstatic about our chicken poop fertilizer. As for me, I’m still combing Amazon.com for “Rhubarb Recipes for Dummies.” Soon I will gather our crop under the harvest moon, and the canning will begin. I will turn into Pioneer Woman right before your eyes!