The Husband

Pedicures & Color Possibilities: A Husband Weighs In

/ Ally Bean / 30 Comments

I only asked him as a courtesy.  I didn’t think that he’d have opinion, but he did.

And it surprised me.

I’d sorted through my bottles of nail polish, throwing out shades that I hated or bottles with lids that no longer opened.  I was left with 5 shades:

  • Houston We Have Purple by OPI [dark dramatic shiny purple]
  • From A To Zurich by OPI [dark maroon]
  • Strawberry Margarita by OPI [bright bold pink]
  • Incognito by Dior [neutral beige-y medium pink]
  • Nail Glow by Dior [sheer pinkish purple that makes nail tips look white like a French manicure]

So there I sat, on the screened-in porch, trying to decide which of the above colors I was going to put on my little piggies.  About 90% of the time I wear the Dior Incognito because it’s classy and goes with everything.

I repeat, everything.

But Zen-Den was out there on the porch with me, too.  So I asked him which color he thought that I should wear.  And the color he picked was…

Of Chips & Buns, Making Small Talk At The Dinner Table

/ Ally Bean / 27 Comments
I. The scene

Zen-Den and I went to dinner at a Tex-Mex place.  Sitting there at our table, me sipping a frozen Texas Twister, him drinking a Dos Eqius, waiting for our tortilla chips to arrive, we got to talking.

II. The Subject

Thinking about the recent news story that I’d seen that day, I asked Zen-Den what he thought about man buns.  Specifically, the man buns of Disney.

I figured that the sports babble radio guys who he listens to during his daily commute would have had something to say about man buns.  But apparently they’re not as aware of male hairstyles as one might hope.

Zen-Den had no idea what I was talking about.

III. The Conversation

He asked: What kind of buns? Ones that you eat? 

I said: No!

He said: Buns with your hair?  On men?

I said: Yes, the ones on your head.

He asked: Like granny buns?

I said: No, not like Granny Clampett.  More like sumo wrestlers.

He said: The guys are fat?

I said: No.  I don’t think so.  Maybe some are.  The photos show thin guys.

 He said: There are photos?  Where?

I said: Online.  In a blog or something, I think.  I read an article. 

He said: So these thin guys pull their hair up and twist it into a bun?

I said: Yes!

He said: How?

I said: I don’t know.  It’s just up there.  Maybe with a scrunchie?  Or bobby pins?

He said: Why do they do it? 

I said: It’s probably a thing like being a hipster with your hat.  Or those “git r done” guys with their shaved heads.  It’s cool, I guess.  

He said: Why?

I said: I dunno.  Because men are stupid? 

He said: That’s true… that’s very true. 

I said: I’ll send you the link to the article.

He said: Nah.  I don’t want to see it.  Sounds weird.  That’s why I like listening to radio.  I don’t have to see any pictures of stupid men.

IV. The Conclusion

The conversation ended when our server brought us fresh homemade chips and salsa.  They captured Zen-Den’s attention, so he was no longer interested in cross-examining me about man buns.

I stopped talking about them, but will admit that I enjoyed watching a middle age business guy struggle with the idea of men wearing their hair in an up-do… just because they can.

A Lazy-ish Summer Weekend, Idyllic As Can Be

/ Ally Bean / 22 Comments

DSCN5641

• • •

It was a relaxing weekend here.  Nothing special going on, but enough to do to keep us content.

I read an enjoyable novel.

He watched his latest TV obsession.

We went for a walk around the neighborhood noticing that the new houses under construction are very large indeed.

I did laundry.

He repaired and painted the mailbox post while I cleaned the mailbox and numbers.

We went to a triple-A baseball game.

I shopped online for a new lamppost light to replace the worn-out one shown above.

He caught up on work while sitting at the kitchen table.

We ate, for dinner, cold sandwiches instead of cooking hot somethings.

And we drank bottles of beer instead of goblets of wine.

It was a weekend befitting warm August days under clear blue skies.

• • •

So gentle readers and kind lurkers, what did you do this past weekend?

Please tell all in the comments below.

A Glimpse Into Life With The Beans, Mid-Summer Edition

/ Ally Bean / 24 Comments
The Good

Zen-Den went to the grocery and bought everything on the list, including cornstarch.  This, as he pointed out to me, was a big deal because, as he said: “even five years ago I wouldn’t have known what cornstarch was– and would have bought corn meal instead.” 

Congratulations, darling.  You’ve passed GROCERY SHOPPING 201, an intermediate level course in advanced shopping techniques wherein husbands learn to buy exactly that which is written on the list.

Isn’t he something? Let’s give it up for the Z-D.

~ • ~

The Bad

Influenced by Mad Men [and a bit of nostalgia for my parents], I had a hankering for an Old Fashioned.  So I got out the bourbon and the sugar bowl in which I keep sugar cubes and the Angostura Bitters.  Then I made myself an Old Fashioned using the last of the bourbon.

While my drink sat on the counter below, as I attempted to put the sugar bowl back onto the cupboard shelf above, in a horrible moment of miscalculation, I knocked the lid off the sugar bowl.  It fell onto the counter, shattering into 3 gazillion + 1 pieces, many of which landed in my drink.

Leaving me distraught and drinkless.

~ • ~

The Ugly

Because of the excessive rain, we’ve not used our screened-in porch as much as we usually do in the summer.  However, the other evening there was no rain, so we decided to go out there to sit.

Almost immediately we both noticed that there were ants walking around on the rug in the screened-in porch.  This is amazing because the porch is up a story from the ground below, but those miserable, icky, sneaky, destructive ants were on. my. porch.

I took off one of my Birks, grabbed it with my hand and started hitting the ants until they stopped moving.  I put the sandal back on when I thought that I’d killed all the ants, but I hadn’t.  So when I saw one last ant moving, in a fit of anger, I stomped down really hard with my sandaled foot on the last ant… and twisted my left ankle in the process.

I hate ants.

~ • ~