Yours, Mine, and Ours

Once upon a time, like four and a half months ago, I got married.

A lot of girls spend their childhood dreaming about the day they wed, and how they're going to live happily ever after, and imagine what an awesome wife they're going to be...

I was NOT planning on getting married anytime soon, believe you me. In fact, there's still a part of my brain that keeps thinking "Yeah, I'm not going to get married for years and years, if ever!" And then I remember that I already am married. Not that there's anything wrong with that! But you know, it's just weird sometimes.

Anywho, long story short, getting married was a shock.

Today, we will be learning about why getting married has been such a learning experience for me, particularly when it comes to learning to live with a guy. I grew up with two sisters and no brothers, so I've never really had to live with a boy. I mean... my dad... but he's a dad, so that doesn't count. So without further ado, here is what I've learned about how to live with a husband.

1. Sleeping Habits

Growing up, I had my own room since I was a tiny kid. For like fifteen years, I had my own space, my own closet, my own place. After my marriage, not only did I have to share a room, I had to share a bed and a blanket! We don't sleep in a king sized bed, either. I brought the bed with me to the marriage, and I had been sleeping on a full sized bed. We aren't huge people, but it's still quite snuggly, and learning to share is rough stuff.

Admittedly, I'm not always the victim in the sleeping situation.

2. Bathroom Habits

Oh my goodness. I don't... It's just... (shudder)

For ten years, I shared a bathroom with two sisters and two cats. Admittedly, it gets tough to keep a clean bathroom with that host of occupants coming in and out, but introducing a boy into the picture is a whole different experience.

I'm no clean freak, as I'm sure my mother would be glad to confirm, but there's just... I...

3. Eating Habits

Okay, I have no illusions of being one of those nibbly little skinny girls that only eats organic... kale... None of that nonsense. I do, however, eat significantly less than a 24-year-old man. And the way I eat is different.

I'm a notorious chip-licker. I'll admit it right here, right now. I just like to enjoy my food to the fullest extent! I lick the seasoning off my chips before I eat them, I nibble the salt off my pretzels, I slurp my soup, I eat my fries one at a time. So sue me. 

Daniel eats like he's got a time limit.

4. This

Well, okay. Growing up in a house full of women doesn't mean I never experienced this. (Looks at sisters)

***

Don't take any of this wrong, I love my husband dearly and have no qualms about signing on for this... er... adventure. Being married is one hundred percent worth all the snoring and sharing and tooting. 

In fact, to be totally fair for writing this post and embarrassing my beloved spouse in front of all the internet, I've extended him the invitation to write a guest post for my blog. So that should be... Adorable. Entertaining. Enlightening. Interesting. Terrifying. Hilarious. Pick an adjective.

Also, next Saturday is a momentous occasion, because it marks the anniversary of mine and Daniel's very first date. This pretty much beats out any previous records, and I'm hoping that our relationship continues to be the record holder forever. To commemorate this fortuitous event, my next post is going to be sort of a Q and A type deal, all about the adventures and experiences and times that we've had over the last year, good and bad.

So, if you have a question you want answered or a story you want told, let me know here, in the comments, or send an email to hemustbehappy@gmail.com. Or, alternatively, if you haven't already "liked" Plans for Nigel on Facebook, you should go do that. And then leave your words in the comments there.

But for really, I want to know what you want to know! You're all part of the Plan.

...for Nigel.

Secret Identities

Dear Everyone:

I love writing blog posts for you! I enjoy writing them and I enjoy knowing that you read them and appreciate them. And even if you don't appreciate them, I like pretending that you do, and since you're on the internet, there's no way to prove otherwise!

One of the best and most rewarding things about blogging is receiving feedback from my readers. When I hear back from people that read my blog, I know that people are thinking about something that I've put out there, and people are hearing what I'm saying.

One of the most common ways people give feedback for my words and/or drawings is by commenting on Facebook, but occasionally there are a select few who will comment directly on the post, which I appreciate because then your words get to join my words on the internet, and my post becomes a conversation.

However.

This is where you leave a comment on my blog. I'm sure you've all seen it before when you finish reading a blog post and you're wiping tears of delight from your eyes.

The default setting to leave a comment, if you're logged into a Google account, is to comment under your Google profile.

You will note, however, that the list of options for commenting on my blog include one called "Name/URL" second from the bottom, in case you don't have any of those other accounts. If you select this option, it will bring up a little typey place where you can type your name. 

Do that.

The last option on the list is "Anonymous." 

Don't do that.

Here's why...

I've gotten a few anonymous comments on my blog in the past, and I love reading them as much as any other comments, but the thing is... I don't know who they're from. So I have a little bit of a hard time interpreting them.

For instance:

My reaction to the comment "Your blog totally changed my life. Thanks for writing it. = ) Love ya!" differs pretty greatly depending on who wrote it.

I tend to lean toward feeling flattered, because that seems like a natural assumption.

But there are different assumptions that can be made based on who left the comment.

Another example comes from my post about my delightful little book that I have (that I really haven't been posting stuff from like I said I would, apologies.)

A reader or couple of readers commented and said "I'll take twelve..." and "I'll do you one better... THIRTEEN please!"

The problem is, since these posts were anonymous, how will I know who to give all those books to once I become a famous published author? I'll just be signing hundreds of decorative leaf-pressers for my own self.

And for the most difficult example of anonymous posts, there were a group of comments recently left on a bunch of my posts by an anonymous troll!

This one says "If I eat an earth worm, will I die?"

Of course, being the awesome blog-tainer that I am, I replied with a witty retort. But since the post was anonymous, how could I possible know who to find and kick? 

The good news is, this blog-troll came forward and received his rightful kicking, and all is right in the world again. 

But every day, millions if not one commenter goes without their rightful appreciation because I don't know who to appreciate! I'm not saying that you absolutely can't leave an anonymous comment on my blog. If you're that concerned about being found out, or if you're in Witness Protection on something, then by all means, leave an anonymous comment. 

But if you're my friend or neighbor or stalker, then just take the extra second to let me know, so I can know whether to be touched or horrified. 

Thank you. Love you.

--Jackie

(see what I did there?)

Just... Ugh

Yes, I'm still sick. Yes, I tried to write a real person post. No, it didn't work. I drew lots of pictures and wrote a bunch of words and it just didn't come together. It was just a hot mess, and I have too much pride to post substandard material! I have a reputation to maintain.

In other news, Breaking Bad, am I right? And iOS7 is a thing I suppose, but it's all about Android if you ask me. Plus, the U beat BYU in sportsball, so that happened too.

I'm tired and I don't feel well.

Internet.

Sick Day

Sad Irony Comics

Once upon a time just now, I drew this at work while pretending to be productive but actually just dying of a fast-acting illness.
Please don't judge my drawings, sickness lowers my standards for perfection.

We Are Famous!

Who has two thumbs and is totally almost on the way to internet-famous? 

Not Nigel! Hamsters only have four fingers on their front paws. Although we're now featured on Alltop.com under the Humor category. So that's cool too.

I Am Talented

I've always been kind of disappointed that I wasn't the best at something...

I mean, obviously everyone can't always be the best because it takes mediocrity to offset excellence, but it wouldn't hurt to be at least kind of awesome at something.

I can draw alright, and I'm okay at writing words and stuff. And I've played piano for a long time, but I don't really play well enough to ever accompany anyone or perform in front of people. I can cook adequate food, and I have passable sewing skills, but I could never be an expert chef or seamstress. 

Recently, however, I realized that to be the best at something, I just need to invent my own thing to be the best at! 

I recently discovered a unique talent that I'm certain will get me far in this life...

I'm sure you all know what onomatopoeia is. In case you didn't, here is a refresher course:

on·o·mat·o·poe·ia

  [on-uh-mat-uh-pee-uh, ‐mah-tuh‐]

noun

1.

the formation of a word, as cuckoo, meow, honk,  or boom,  by imitation of a sound made by or associated with its referent.

Onomatopoetry is a new form of art invented by me, and the leading artist in the field is, of course, me. Someday I will become super fancy and rich and have gallery showings of framed works, and people will pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for one of my pieces, so you will definitely want to remember this post. It's going to go down in history. The Wikipedia article about me will probably refer to this post in the section under "Early Works." 

(Fun fact, if you search Wikipedia for "Jackie Winsor" you will find a professional artist, but it's not me.)

So, without further ado, here are some of my latest works of onomatopoetry, in no particular order.

I know you're all thinking "Why is there a puma in your Stow-and-Go?" 

This is my original work of onomatopoetry, and it was based on a conversation I had with my father at work after he lost his cake platter.  (Comments in brackets added after the fact.)

Father: So is that your cake plate down in the break room, or is it mine?

Me: That's mine, haha.

Father: Or is it?

I mean, what cake plate?

Me: Gasp!

I feel like...

When was the last time you used it?

It was for donuts, right?

Father: Yeah, I think so.

Me: It's definitely in Rachel's room. Yup.

Father: Yeah, I suspected.

Me: Or in Bingley's [the van's] vast storage crevasses. 

Father: Uh...

Me: Wherein lurk many pumas. [if you don't get this joke, watch this video]

Father: I thought I heard noises last time I drove Bingley.

Me: Were they "row-ROWR!" noises?

Because that's what pumas sound like.

Not cake plates, though.

Father: I don't remember ever getting pumas and cake plates mixed up. That could be dangerous, you know.

Me: "There are some cupcakes right over there on the AAAAH!"

Father: Exactly. Worst kids' birthday party ever.

Also, I must compliment you on your phonetic spelling of a puma roar. I can totally hear it.

Me: (takes bow)

I'm a professional onomatopoet. 

Father: I... you... cool!

This work was inspired this summertime while watching the fireworks with some friends, and a woman parked near us had a stupid car. She eventually tried to turn it off, but that just made the car alarm go off for realsies, and we about had to shut it off with all the crowbars and golf clubs I keep in my trunk for emergencies.

Bullying is never acceptable, and it breaks my heart to watch defenseless underdogs have their authority stomped upon by someone or someones that think they're better just because they're bigger or louder or wealthier. Determined to stop the bullying, I described to my mother in detail the montage of me teaching someone to be tough, and thus was created this work of art.

This one just happened. And I was inspired.

There you have it, folks! The first work in what I hope will become a rather large collection of famous art. If you witnessed (or heard) something inspiring or remarkable, let me know and I will definitely compose a custom work of art for you.

Since I'm not quite famous yet, bidding starts at only $12,000.