A Few Things About Shell

Ok, so I was trying to think of something at least halfway entertaining to say, since I've been offline for a bit.  Unfortunately, I'm not a very entertaining person and my life is actually fairly normal and uninspiring.  Aside from that I suffer from depression, so really, wanting happy humorous entertainment from me is kind of a daily hit or miss.  I can give you fake happy if you'd like, I'm fairly good at that.  It's one of my talents.


Having said that I see that there are a few new followers to the blog *waves madly at T, Brad and Matt* Hence, I'm going to do a short about me bit to give those who don't know much about me a bit of a background.  Sound good?  Grand, here we go.  I'm a mother of one (only one, thank you Jesus, love her, there will be no more), I'm in my early thirties, ok, 31 to be exact.  I'm originally from Pennsylvania, but moved down to finish my degree at USF in Tampa halfway through college.  I've been married to my hubs for 7.5 yrs.  Wow, 7.5 years.  Dang, it doesn't seem like it's been that long.  He's a USMC officer in flight school at the moment.  He's been in the military about 9 years, I know, they beat me to him!  The bastards!  He was with the Am Tracks (Assault Amphibious Vehicles) before finishing his degree and going to officer school.  Thus, I kind of follow him around.  He was deployed to Iraq three times with the Am Tracks and now if all things go his way he would like to be a Cobra pilot.  (The helicopters with big guns - that's how I remember which one is which).  I'm sure there will be more deployments in our future, but at the moment I'm enjoying having him here.  We're not anything alike, honestly.  It amuses some of our friends and family how vastly different we are, but it seems to work for us, so I'm not questioning it.  A few examples of our numerous differences:  I'm a pacifist, he's a Marine, I enjoy long distance running, he thinks anything over 3 miles is excessive, I'm a - oh my do I even go into politics? - let's just say liberal, he's conservative.  I believe the universe is all connected, he believes we turn to dust when we die.  I drive a hybrid, he drives a truck.  I'm emotional, he's logical.  He wants to take care of me, I try to take care of the world (fyi, this never works, the world's too damn big).  I'm bisexual, he was raised Catholic.  Oh wait, no no, the raised Catholic thing was suppose to go somewhere else, I meant to say before meeting me he was just sexually repressed!  lol.  Fine, I'll be serious (he was though!), he's straight (at least I certainly hope he is, otherwise I missed something big along the way!)  Yeah, that's us, in a nutshell.  We're in Florida at the moment, until we get sent somewhere else.  I don't mind too much though and besides, when it's all said and done and I get to grow old with him, it'll be worth it, even if he is a bit odd.  :)

The Muddled Mess of Shell's Brain

I admit, I can be less than intelligent at times. *points at Iv & P* Hush, peanut gallery! However, this morning I was particularly brilliant. Really, I was.

My husband got up at 5:45am, hence I got up. I've tried sleeping through him getting up, but usually it's rather pointless. I'm a light sleeper and for as small of a guy as he is you would think he would pad quietly through the house. No, not even close. He always feels bad too, “oh babe, I'm so sorry! Did I wake you?” No, love, of course not, the other elephant did. So, this morning we get up and I decide to be a nice wife (happens on occasion) and make him breakfast before he goes to fly his little plane up in the sky.  Well, my husband enjoys biscuits and gravy, so that's what I'm going to make. I don't usually eat it, not that I don't like it, but if I'm aiming for cardiac arrest I'd rather have a snickers. At any rate, there I am, decked out in my jammies, in the kitchen at that ungodly hour when I begin to suffer from morning brain. Truly. It's a sickness. Happens all the time and rarely goes away before the second cup of coffee. Now, I'm making biscuits and gravy, but I decide to do it the easy way since it's entirely too early to actually make anything. Thus, I go to the fridge and pull out the biscuits. I then grab the can opener and begin opening my biscuits. My easy-to-open canned, with a image and nice pull here to open directions with a yellow tab biscuits. At this point you would think some synapses would begin firing and say “Hey Brainiac, unwrap the can.” Alas, that did not happen. Instead, I stood mystified by the oozing dough coming out of the can and yelled (no,honest to God, I did) “Chris! Chris! There's something wrong with the biscuits!”  My husband, who was in his office getting ready, came running in to assist me with my seeping pile of dough, took one look at it, looked at me, busted up laughing, didn't even say anything, just pulled the tab, opened it, handed it back to me, smirked, kissed me on the forehead and walked away. Can you believe that bastard?