Wednesday, July 27, 2011


I have somewhat of a commute each day. About 45 minutes each way, so I'm in the car six or more hours each week. Over the past 20 years I have witnessed some crazy stuff. Let's see:

The creepy guy BRUSHING HIS TEETH behind the wheel. Gross on so many levels, where is he spitting?

People shaving. Once a guy with a razor and recently a guy using a cordless shaver.

Not long ago there was a story about a woman who got pulled over for doing some, um, personal grooming whilst driving down the interstate. Lady, either take care of your business before you leave the house, or save it for later! Gross!

Last week there was a woman clipping her fingernails at the stop light. Her window was down, but she was not throwing her clippings out. I shudder at the thought of what the floor of her car looks like. Ewww.

Once the Interstate was pretty backed up and a guy was reading a book while driving. Yep. READING. I can't sing and drive at the same time, let alone read and drive.

One of the women at work apparently applies her make-up each day on her way into the office. There is a ginormous bucket of makeup in her front seat. Now, she lives near me so she takes the highway and apparently applies her mascara, etc. You would think she looks like the bride of Frankenstein with eyeliner on her forehead and such, but she actually looks great every day. Not sure how she does it.

I recently came across the video below. Honestly. This takes the cake.
Way beyond texting and driving!

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Mister Dater, Taco Hater

Mr. Dater is either A) Not reading my blog, or B) ignoring my not so subtle reference to tacos.

I thought for sure I'd come home from a hard day at the office to Tacos for dinner on Monday. Nope. Tuesday...not a chance. Maybe he's holding out for Thursday, which is our actual anniversary. The traditional gift for 10 years SHOULD be tacos, but it's not. I looked it up.

The traditional 10-year gift is aluminum or tin. The US Modern gift is diamonds, WHICH I GOT! Thank you Mr. Dater!!!! However, a girl can dream about tacos, right?

So now I need to think of an anniversary gift for Mr. D. Aluminum or tin. A box of Reynolds Wrap? A baseball bat? Disposable pie plates? Any input will be greatly appreciated!

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Celebrating 10 years of wedded bliss this week

OK, so it hasn't all been bliss, but show me a 100% blissful marriage and I'll show you a liar! Anyone who is THAT happy all of the time is hiding something.

So anyway, I've learned a lot in the last 10 years. Here are some tid-bits:

Husbands aren't great listeners. If you are conversating with your husband and all you get in response are grunts and words that sound like "yuh", he is NOT paying attention.

I have learned to NEVER leave any items of importance on the kitchen counter because they will inevitably end up in the trash. This includes new checks from the bank, receipts, curtains, passports, magazines, wads of doesn't matter, if there is something there, it goes in the garbage. I have spent many an afternoon searching the garbage bins for instructions to the new gadget we bought, or looking for a bill that needs paid. So I hide such items, and then forget where I hid them. It's a lose-lose situation.

Men do NOT understand a woman's need to accessorize. Purses, shoes, jewelry, etc. Because they have no need for such things, neither should I.

When he asks what I want for dinner, he really isn't interested in my answer, which 9 times out of 10 is tacos. He HATES tacos. I don't know why, who hates tacos? So he asks, I say "tacos" and I end up with something like, grilled chicken. GIVE ME MY DAMN TACOS!!!!

I could go on and on, but in the interest of fairness, I'll tell you some things he has learned in the past 10 years.

Women are sneaky. He asks "where did you get those shoes/that purse/those earrings" and I reply "What? These old things? I've had them forever!!!". I have also been known to pilfer money into a secret "purse account" that he has no access to. Tee Hee.

I am a hot mess. Literally HOT all of the time, as mentioned in a previous blog. I used to be cold all of the time. Freezing, I would jack up the thermostat and he would complain, which earned him the pet name "Heat Miser". Now, ten years later, it's the opposite. I would crank the air conditioner if I knew I wouldn't have to hear him screech when the utility bill comes. He puts up with me, another reason I keep him.

I am bossy. I try to be in charge of everything. Dr. Phil always says "Do you want to be right or do you want to be happy?" Well, Dr. Phil, being right makes me happy. I have backed off a bit and there are one or two things where he gets to be in charge, aside from the kitchen. He is in charge of the satellite TV and the bank accounts. Everything else is MINE.

Finally, there is Tommy, our awesome 7-year old son. He is the cutest, funniest, sassiest, smartest kid I know and we love him more than anything. If nothing else, he is ONE thing we got right, and he likes tacos too!!!

So here is to 10 years of marriage, and hopefully another 40. Stay tuned!

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Heidi Dater, CSI Evader

I like to mess with people. One day I went to Wal-Mart to buy one of those 6 cubic foot freezers for the garage. I was also buying a bunch of saran wrap for some baking I was planning to do. This old man in front of me is giving me a funny look so I say "If I chop him up just right, do you think I can get my 6-foot 5-inch husband to fit in here? I wonder if I bought enough plastic wrap?" He hustled his wife out of the store right quick.

I think I watch too many crime shows. I'm pretty sure I know how to get rid of someone without getting caught. If Dexter can buy all of that plastic sheeting and trash bags without drawing attention to himself, then I can do it, right? Really, I think about this stuff a lot, keeps me up at night. Does he go to a different Home Depot every time he makes a kill? You can't buy that much plastic wrap over and over at the same store without someone noticing. I worked a a cashier in college, I remembered whenever people would come in and buy large quantities of stuff. Like this one guy, he came in and bought HUGE quantities of toilet paper several times a week. That's all he ever bought. People notice that kind of stuff!

Another example...whenever I go to the Coach store the sales associate takes me right to the new pink items. Now, either she remembers I like pink, or the give away might be that I'm dressed like Pinky Tuscadero (you gotta be old to get this reference!).

But I digress. My point is I might make a second career out of making people "disappear". So call me, I can help.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Proud Mommy Moment

Over the weekend I experienced something that is weird and cool all at the same time. My kiddo, Tommy, can do something that I can not do. He can SWIM.

I don't swim. I can't swim. My parents did their due diligence and had me in lessons, but I was a freak and hated every second of it. I literally can't do it. In my twenties I took lessons at the Y and made zero progress.

First of all, I don't like water. I don't like to be wet, I don't like to get splashed, none of that. Secondly, I'm a sinker, not a floater. I don't float. I don't know if my legs are too long or what but when I try to float on my back, my legs sink and drag along the bottom of the pool. If I am really really desperate, I will hop in the pool to cool off, but that happens about once a decade. I just don't like it.

Because of my pool phobia (hydrophobia, I looked it up!) I wanted to make sure Tommy learned to swim. It didn't start off well and we gave up in the middle of the first session. The next year I tried again and I almost grabbed him and ran when he started to cry. That's when I met Jorna, who is now a very good friend. She kept me calm that day, and it got easier every time we went.

Now, just a few years later, he's almost done with lessons. Last night he started a new level and that little booger swam the entire length of the pool several times, doing several different strokes. Crawl, back stroke, some other weird stroke that I can't name, and he can tread water.

Maybe he'll be the next Michael Phelps???

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Heidi Dater Hormone Hater

Menopause is a beyotch. If you haven't been lucky enough to experience it for yourself, let me warn you about the hot flashes, night sweats, hormonal rages, forgetfulness, weight gain and *vaginal dryness*

I'm convinced the divorce rate of menopausal women must be ginormous. Honestly, I wouldn't blame my hubby for tossing me out on my can because I am such a hot mess.

Let me tell you about hot flashes. You are cruising along just fine and the next thing you are hotter than hell and sweating profusely. One day I'm at Wal-Mart checking out. Not exerting any energy, sweat pouring off of me. My summer wardrobe s my winter wardrobe. Tanktops in Colorado in a problem. Just call me Sweaty Betty.

Sharing a bed with my hubby is a problem. In the middle of winter I have all of the bed covers off and a fan blowing on me whilst he's under 4 fleece blankets.

The moods are brutal too. One night I ripped Adrian a new one because he tore a hole in the tortilla bag in instead of opening it neatly along the zip lock thingy. I lost my mind. He looked at me like I had 2 heads. My head is spinning around, and I know I'm being crazy, but I can't make it stop.

Here is the thing, men just apparently aren't that smart. A few nights later, another annihilated tortilla bag--he must REALLY be in a hurry to eat those tortillas. Lost my ever loving mind again. He'll never learn. I'll show him. It'll be a cold day (and since I am always HOT, that translates to NEVER) before I buy tortillas again!

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Generally I am known as the People Hater

Today I am Heidi Dater Mother-EFFING-Garage-Door-HATER. Seriously, how can one household device be such the bane of my existence?

It all started when the batteries went dead so I replaced them. Then only one opener could be programmed to open the door, and the keypad wouldn't program. Naturally, being the Handy Mandy in our household, I kept the programmed remote for myself, leaving Adrian to push the button and run to hop the sensor every time he left the house.

So the new circuit board arrived and I installed it myself. It was only 9,000 degrees in the garage last night and I was sweating bullets. Got the board on there, was reconnecting these stupid wires that kept breaking. Took for focking ever. Finally got it all set, programmed my remote and SUCCESS! Attached it to the visor in my car woo hoo! Adrian's remote? Not-so-much. Can't get it programmed. Mother Trucker. Got the keypad programmed, I'll take two out of three. Saved $100 visit from the garage door guy.

Fast forward to this morning. Go to leave. My opener is GONE. Poof. Into thin air. Or the juvenile delinquents who stole my flamingos also helped themselves to my garage door opener. FOCK. So I drop off the kiddo, go back to the house, erase all the codes, bolt all the doors. They got my flamingos, they aren't getting anything else from me!

So I am back to square one. Oh, and did I mention when I left the first time I went to close the door with the keypad, and it didn't work??????? What's that garage door guy's number again?