Meet Stephen

Sorry folks...I've got no ideas! So I'll borrow from Karen.

1. Who is your man?
Stephen
2. How long have you been together?
married 2 years
3. How long did you date?
dated 6 months, engaged for 6 months
4. How old is your man?
28
5. Who eats more?
Stephen, unless it's cookies!
6. Who said "I love you" first?
He did.
7. Who is taller?
Stephen, even when I have my tall shoes on. That was a must.
8. Who sings better?
It would be a painful competition.
9. Who is smarter?
Depends on the subject.
10. Whose temper is worse?
Mine, probably.
11. Who does the laundry?
He does!
12. Who takes out the garbage?
Stephen.
13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
Me. I tried to switch sides once and it freaked him out.
14. Who pays the bills?
Me.
15. Who is better with the computer?
Neither one of us is has very technical knowledge, but we can both figure out how to get the computer to do what we need it to.
16. Who mows the lawn?
Some strange man. Stephen used to, though, and proved to be a wizard with a lawn mower and baling wire!
17. Who cooks dinner?
Usually that's my job, although Stephen has been doing it a lot lately since I've started back to school.
18. Who drives when you are together?
Usually Stephen, unless we're in a hurry.
19. Who pays when you go out?
Stephen
20. Who is most stubborn?
It is a very tough call. He'll usually give in first to avoid an argument, though.
21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?
I am never wrong, so this hasn't really come up.
22. Whose parents do you see the most?
We hang out with both of our families a lot!
23. Who kissed who first?
I'm a lady...who do you think?
24. Who asked who out?
Ditto to the previous question.
25. Who proposed?
Stephen...it was a very romantic surprise!
26. Who is more sensitive?
Probably Stephen, although I have my issues.
27. Who has more friends?
Me.
28. Who has more siblings?
I do, but there are sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews on his side, so there are more people at Watson gatherings.
29. Who wears the pants in the family?
It's really a team effort.

Reflections On Lost

Stephen and I are on the hunt for a good new TV show to get into. We can beat the Friends characters to every punch line on every episode of every season, and we're caught up on 24 until all of Season 6 is released. We don't want to watch anything that's currently showing, because we want to be able to watch as many episodes as we want, at any given time, without any commercial interruption.

On Friday night, after being grossly underwhelmed by the selection of New Releases at Hastings, we decided to rent the first disc of Lost, Season 1.

Stephen loved it. I was so scared by the pilot episode that I ended up curled up on the couch, watching the last three-quarters of it through tiny slits between my fingers. The whole show premise is bad enough: 48 people are stranded on a remote island after a horrific plane crash. Within a few minutes, it becomes clear that some of the people on the plane are scary all in themselves, there are unidentified, giant wild animals inhabiting the island, and it is suggested that maybe other people have been stranded and died there before.

In the scariest scene of the pilot, a girl named Kate finds herself running through the jungle, chased by some unseen monster that has just chewed up another character and strung his bloody remains in the treetops. I tried to explain to Stephen how much I felt her panic. "I would rather drop dead than be that afraid."

Stephen said I was a coward.

I did agree to finish off the disc, and to suspend my judgment of the show until I had seen more of it. It did mellow out a little bit, and the mysteries surrounding the characters themselves have me curious enough to continue on to disc 2.

The thing that I do like about horrific shows like Lost and 24 is that they give me a comforting perspective on my own problems:

• Maybe I'm hungry, but at least I don't have to pilfer through dead people's pockets looking for something to eat.
• Maybe this hotel room is kind of dingy, but at least weaponized nerve gas is not coming into my room through the air conditioning.
  
• Maybe my shoes hurt my feet, but at least I am not having to sew up my own gaping wound with a thread from someone's travel sewing kit and a needle sterilized by a travel-sized bottle of vodka.
  
• Maybe my needy students were especially emotionally taxing today, but at least I didn't have to shoot my boss in the head to avoid giving away my undercover position as a member of a terrorist network.

Of course, after last Friday, I have had to add plane wreckage and uninhabited jungles to my list of fear-for-my-life locations (you know, gas stations, stopped traffic, red lights on deserted country roads; basically anywhere where my axles might get severed)...but that's another story.

Men, Women, and Unborn Baby Luaus

We recently were invited to a Hawaiian-themed couples baby shower. One afternoon while we were running errands, I coerced Stephen into accompanying me to Target to buy the baby gift.

We printed the gift registry from the little kiosk and set off for the baby section. Stephen glanced at the rows of baby paraphernalia. "How much are you planning to spend on this kid?"

I named the amount, and justified it by emphasizing the importance of the relationship that I have with the baby's maternal grandmother. Besides, my mom had agreed to go in for half.

"Okay," said Stephen, and skimmed the pages of the registry. "That means that we can get the Bumbo Baby Sitter Blue...and a Boppy slipcover. Oh, and one pack of assorted wash cloths. That will be just the right amount."

"No, no," I tried to explain. "We want to pick one semi-large gift to set the theme, but we want to have enough money left to buy a few other items that relate to the theme. Those things you said don't have anything to do with each other."

Stephen tried to look patient and understanding as it dawned on him that this would be no quick in-and-out trip. I prowled up and down the baby aisles in search of inspiration. My initial idea was a bath-themed gift, with a baby tub full of shampoos, lotions, and towels. But washcloths and shampoo were the only thing on the registry, and I wasn't going to go out on a limb for the most expensive part of the gift.

After much agonizing, I decided to go with a diaper-themed gift. We bought diapers and wipes, and a travel changing pad, some diaper rash cream, baby powder, and Purel hand sanitizer.

Stephen mentally totaled the items in our basket. "So, we're set, right? A basket full of themed baby stuff. Now we can get a big gift bag and go?"

"No, no," I contradicted, and proceeded to instruct him in phase two of the gift buying: Themed baby stuff is a good gift. But good is not good enough- we want to give the best gift. And the line between good and best is all in the presentation. "We need to find a cute container that fits our theme that we can put all this stuff in."

Stephen eyed the pile of diaper accessories. "Maybe a laundry basket?"

"You can't put diapers in a laundry basket!" Stephen knows my paranoia about mixing clean and dirty.

"Well, they're unused diapers in a brand new basket," he reasoned.

I was off to investigate what seemed like the only logical possibility for a container in keeping with my theme: a trash can. Voila! There was a perfect one, in a lovely hue of baby green, and for a very reasonable price. Stephen was skeptical, but willing to go along with anything at this point.

I got home, played with my ribbons and scissors and clear cellophane, and even Stephen had to admire my final product:

Who Needs Scrapbooking?

Stephen and I recently resolved to be more diligent about keeping up with our finances. Last weekend, we sat down with a year's worth of bank statements, checkbook registers, and credit card bills. Carefully we reviewed each one to track our spending habits and also to find places where our checkbook register did not match the bank's records.

The whole project took about three hours, and it was a great trip down memory lane. Typical conversations looked like this:

Stephen: "July '06 was a big month. Here is our check to the mortgage company for our new house...and, oh, look...my first paycheck from the HOP."

Lindsey: "This statement says we spent $XX dollars at Lowe's last September. What was that for?"
Stephen: "Remember? That was when we bought our new refrigerator."
Lindsey: "Oh, yeah...the old one was making those terrible noises."

Lindsey: "Hey, a bunch of charges in DFW. This was the time that we went to Hurricane Harbor with Josh and Abbey."
Stephen: "And mine has our charges from the day we spent with Cliff and Teresa at the zoo."
Stephen and Lindsey: (reflectively) "Those were fun days..."

So you see? This was much more fun than looking at unflattering photos of myself in various locations, and the preservation of these memories was as quick as the time it took to swipe the Mastercard or write a check. Let the fun times continue!

Hello Nurse

When we first got married, all of our counselors were quick to warn us about an inevitable adjustment we would have to make. As a child of a healthy family, and as I enjoyed a close and trusting relationship with my own father, Stephen and I would have to skillfully navigate the unavoidable comparisons and possibly conflicting expectations as I transferred my healthy dependency from dad to husband.

Yesterday, when I came home from work with what is now acting suspiciously like the flu, Stephen was confronted with a comparison that neither one of us saw coming. As I lay on the couch, pajama-clad and wrapped in blankets, depending on my husband for comfort and sustinence, he was forced to compete with the best nurse I (like every child) have ever had--my mother.

It got to be dinner time, and Stephen asked me what I wanted to eat. I stared back, incredulous. Did he even have to ask? I'm sick, what does he think I want to eat? I patiently expressed my desire (chicken noodle soup, with a side of saltines).

The tragedy of misunderstood expectations continued: Stephen did not know that sick people will die if they are not hydrated with lemon-lime Gatorade and Sprite, or that chocolate ice cream heals all diseases, or that homemade ice chips make a great snack.

Stephen has patiently indulged all of my my needs, and has even come up with some good ideas of his own, like moving the TV into the bedroom and feeding me mashed potatoes for dinner.

While obviously the flu is no fun, there is something to be said for the intangible healing powers of regressing to childhood. And on that note, I'm going to have a Sprite while I watch Stephen make dinner.

New Year's Non-Post

We have had a great post-holiday week, but we have really been on the run. Not counting sleeping hours, I am pretty sure that I have logged at least twice as many hours in the car as I have in my own home this week. I have actually had several great ideas for blog posts, but I haven't been home long enough to write them out! Now I'm all backed up and about to leave town, and by the time I get around to thinking through these holiday insights, they will be old news. So here you go: all
my thoughts.

1. I am a huge fan of New Year's resolutions. I love the occasion for self-evaluation, and to make promises to myself that I will do better. Obviously, some resolutions stick better than others, but as long as I keep a couple each year, I'm heading in the right direction.

2. One of the things that I admired the most about the musicians at the TSO concert was their complete lack of inhibition. At one point, there was a girl singer on a mini-stage way back in the audience, and she was dancing all by herself, and not even doing a very good job. But she kept at it, even though she was in the spotlight and a thousand eyes were on her. I have always wanted to be a little less self-conscious, and I had my first taste on Christmas Eve. My brother-in-law Tom got a karaoke machine for Christmas, and we had a girls versus boys karaoke competition. I took my turn every round, despite my lack of confidence in my singing, regaling the family with such classics as "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?," "Smells Like Teen Spirit," and "Crocodile Rock." It was very fun, and the overall success of the game further proved my theory that every human being has a secret desire to be a rock star.

3. I got a temporary promotion at my parking job on Saturday. I got to drive the courtesy golf cart around the parking lot, offering rides to the unfortunate people who got stuck way out in the back lots. It was very fun, and I was much appreciated.

4. When I found out that my charming brother drew my name for my family's sibling gift exchange, I decided not to offer any gift-buying suggestions. Alan has great taste, and knows how to treat a girl, and I wanted to see what he'd come up with. Well, he came through with a gift certificate for a pedicure at a highly-recommended shop in T****e. Mom and I went together, and enjoyed the pampering. But, as usual, our pedicurists chattered away almost the whole time in what I think was Chinese. The last time this happened, Mom asked right out if they are actually talking about customers the whole time, and they basically said yes. "Wouldn't you?" one pointed out. We sat quietly the whole time, trying not to provide the ladies with any fodder for their discussion. Oh wait, I guess this defeats my lose-the-self-consciousness resolution.

5. We've finally joined the rest of the world in iMadness. Stephen bought an iPod with his Christmas money, and I am having lots of fun with it.

6. I got the new Josh Groban CD, and it is excellent. Maybe my favorite so far, even though there are not as many foreign-language songs. Speaking of Josh Groban, I had gotten my heart all set on going to hear him when he came to D****s in March. But when I looked more closely, I learned that the concert is on a Monday night, the week after spring break. Bummer! I'm thinking about going anyway.

7. I'm leaving at 3:45 on Tuesday morning for Florida with my mom, sister, and a bunch of cheerleaders and their moms. I'm looking forward to some fun and relaxing time to read and take naps, and enjoy some quality time with Mom and Leslie. Unless there's unusually good computer access, I won't blog until I come back, and then I will write panicky blogs about how I should have done more school work over the break so that I would be prepared to go back to work! Resolution: stop procrastinating!!

See you all in 2007...

The Second Annual Watson Christmas

Last year was our first Christmas together, and so we were both on our best behavior. This year was much more revealing. Here are some highlights.

1. The Advent season is all about building anticipation for celebrating the birth of Jesus. The enticement of the presents under the tree is supposed to add to that effect as you delay the gratification of opening (or shaking, or peeking into) the packages. We did not do so well on this. We broke down last week, and opened just one (each). Every night since then, the presents have been an elephant in the room. "Want to open them tonight? We're grown-ups. Who can tell us not to?" Stephen persisted for a week, until I broke down after church on Wednesday. So Christmas is over for us until we go to our parents' houses. (Hence, this post)

2. I finally broke down and bought Stephen his first game system since his grade-school Atari. It's a Super Pac-man joystick game that plugs into the TV. Now as I sit here, listening to the blip-blip-blip of Pacman eating the dots and avoiding the ghosts, I'm wondering what sort of beast I have unleashed.

3. Although Stephen enjoys guessing the contents of the packages with his name on them (and consequently, robbing me of all the joy of giving), he does not want me to be able to guess what my presents are. So I opened several packages, only to find the that I had to sort through tissue paper, books off of my own bookshelf, and crap from the junk closet in order to find the actual gift itself.

4. Yes, Callie and Phoebe were included in our celebrations. They each got two rawhide sticks and new ID tags with our new phone number on them. But since they are the children, they are having to wait until closer to Christmas to enjoy their gifts.

5. We have a tradition each year of buying a new ornament for our Christmas tree. This year we are buying our ornaments from Starbucks, since that is where at least half of our discretionary income ended up.

6. The highlight of my end-of-year traditions is buying a new calendar. For the past years, I have bought ones with artistic photographs for each month that I can convert to wall art after the year is over. I now have more wall art than I need, so I got one purely for laughs: its' called "Nuns Having Fun." I've already put it on the wall, which is really throwing Stephen off. I love new calendars. There's so much potential there...who knows what sorts of things I will be writing in by the time we get to November or December of '07?

Long Arms and Walmart.com to the Rescue!

My one-year-long tradition is to have our Christmas picture taken over the Thanksgiving holiday, when we are with family. My sister Laura is pretty good with a camera, so she gets to be the lucky photographer. However, this year, I got a haircut that I didn't like on the day before family pictures were scheduled. We took about 20 shots, and of course I hated them all.

So we found ourselves somewhat up a creek when the days of December began to tick by and I still didn't have a picture to send out with the Christmas card (not sending one, by the way, was not an option). Since getting my picture taken ranks right up there with buying new sunglasses for showing off my insecure side, and since I respond to this insecurity by becoming somewhat picky and demanding, I didn't want to impose the exasperating task of working the camera upon anyone that was not bound to me by blood.

Meanwhile, time marched on. Finally an solution presented itself in the form of my husband's conveniently long arm. Last night, we got dressed up in our Christmas-card finery , sat in front of the tree, and Stephen proceeded to take the obligatory thirty pictures college-girl style, by stretching out his arm and aiming the camera lens in our direction. So of course, we got a few shots that cut off important parts of our heads, but we got a few winners, too. Next, we bundled up in coats and repeated the scene on the front porch, in front of my celebrated wreath.

I narrowed down the pictures to those that were most flattering of me and let Stephen go through the motions of helping me pick out our official picture. We chose one, and I proceeded to discover the wonders of Wal-Mart's online photo store. In a mere two hours (okay, so the pages are slow to load), I had uploaded my self-cropped and edited photo onto the website, previewed the photo in several decorative card options, and placed my order. I can pick up our cards at the Wal-Mart in nearby H**o next week. Hooray for finished tasks!

Country Folk

Here's the latest family picture!