Category Archives: The Husband

IT’S NOT YOU!

WRITING RULE #1:

DO NOT ALLOW FAMILY TO READ WHAT YOU WRITE.

The other day I was on my way home from the mall when I decided to call my mother. “Hey mom, it’s me!” I said, right before she handed the phone to my sister because her hands were full. “So what are you guys doing?” I asked my sister.

“Reading your publishers marketplace page,” she said, and that’s all she said.

I gulped. Because my sister does not read my publishers marketplace page. Ever. No one in the family ever reads my publishers marketplace page. Needless to say I found it strange, very strange, she was reading my publishers marketplace page! Something fishy was going on and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.

But before I could get to the bottom of it, my sister asked, “Is this about me?”

“NO!” I exclaimed, just like I’ve exclaimed on numerous occasions before.

“Well it sounds like me. Holly is me,” said Holly.

“Holly is not you,” I told Holly. “Holly has your name, but that’s it!”

Seriously, that really is it! Holly, the character in my book, is based on several real life characters in my life, myself included, but not at all on Holly, my sister. Holly, the character, is ONLY named after Holly my real life sister. Holly, the character, actually acts much like my friend Cady, but she is NOT Cady. Holly, the character, in my mind looks like my friend Grace. Grace is Chinese. Holly, my sister, is NOT Chinese. Holly, my sister, doesn’t even like Chinese food. At least I don’t think she does. Nor has Holly, my sister, ever been employed by an airline, like Holly, the character, and Cady, my friend. Holly, the character, is married to Oscar, a successful business man much like the man I married. However, Oscar is NOT my husband. Though Holly, the character, meets Oscar the exact same way I met my husband – on an airplane. Cady, my friend, met her husband, a pilot, at an airport standing in line at Starbucks, which is the same exact way Nicole, the main character, meets Scruffy. Only Scruffy is not a pilot. He’s a regular guy. Like my husband. Confused? It only gets worse. Holly, the character, gives Nicole advice on life and men throughout the book, which is a lot like the advice my very own mother would give in real life. Holly, the character, is NOT my mother. Got it? Good. So when Holly, my sister, thinks that Holly, the character, is her, I have to laugh. I’m sure Holly, my sister, would not think that’s funny. Honestly, even if I did actually try to write about my sister, the real life Holly, it still wouldn’t be my sister, not in her eyes, not in anyone’s eyes but my own. Why? William Maxwell explains…

“What we, or at any rate what I, refer to confidently as memory – meaning a moment, a scene, a fact that has been subjected to a fixative and thereby rescued from oblivion – is really a form of storytelling that goes on continually in the mind and often changes storytelling. Too many conflicting emotional interests are involved for life ever to be wholly acceptable, and possibly it is the work of the storyteller to rearrange things so that they conform to this end. In any case, in talking about the past we lie with every breath we draw.”
- WILLIAM MAXWELL (So Long, See You Tomorrow)

A few hours later my mother called me back. “Holly told me about your affair, that you wrote you were having an affair with your blog.”

I laughed. “Yeah?”

“Well…we both think that’s weird.”

Which brings me back to writing rule #1: Do not allow the family to read what you write!

Not if you want to become a writer.

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Filed under Cady, My Sister, Skydoll, The Husband

Traveling, or not…

Yes, I travel for a living, but not nearly as much as The Husband. The man flew over 100,000 miles last year alone. Remember, we met on a flight. The guy works hard, I’ll give him that, and traveling is not easy. Sure there are good things about traveling, lots and lots of good things, but then there are the bad things. I’m not talking about the long lines at security, the oversold flights, the cramped seats, the delays or even the grumpy crews. What I’m talking about is life off of the airplane. The life at home. My home in particular. Because when your kid starts calling the Chinese food delivery man dada! Well, you kind of have to wonder…

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Filed under The Husband, The Kid

Man Period

If the husband asks me one more time whether or not I’ve cleaned out the desk drawers, organized the family photos, returned something to Pottery Barn, or if he asks what’s for dinner just so he can tell me he doesn’t want that, or feel the need to remind me that he works all day (even though I’ve been raising a kid all day) I’m gonna …. Actually I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I can’t take it anymore! Man period, is there really such a thing? I think so. Here’s how urban dictionary defines it…

The sole and absolute male counterpart to pms in females. Multiple changes in behaviour(s) at various times in the month is characteristic of this affliction.Symptoms Include:-fear of reality-abrupt irritability-unwillingness to solve problems-inconsiderate, yet expects you to be excessively considerate to his feelings-displays momentary regression back to childish nature(‘little boy syndrome’)-argumentative but totally still wants to sleep with/do you @ the end of the day-onset of inwardness-inconsiderate, yet expects you to be excessively considerate to his feelings-sporadic moments where he cares again, but doesn’t actually mean it-failure to initiate the apology and or admitting wrongfulness-purposely goes out of the way to frustrate others(*See ‘little boy syndrome’ above; ie. If he’s miserable, EVERYONE else has to be)-clearly shows signs of holding onto young man angst(and all things EMO) and behaving like such a little douche bag because of it-the OPPOSITE of helpful

Oh yes, based on that definition, there definitely is such a thing as the man period. I’ve even seen it on the airplane, particularly in business class. And yeah, The Husband is experiencing it right this very moment. As I type. In fact, he’s asked me to stop typing and to get off the damn computer! Man period. It’s for real.

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Filed under Business Class, Man Period, The Husband

Resolutions

The other night I was in bed, under the covers, on the verge of falling asleep, when the husband rolled up behind me. He placed a hand gently on my arm. “There’s something really important I need to tell you,” he whispered in my ear.

Any normal wife, I think, would probably get a little nervous at this point. Not me. I rolled over and faced him. “What?” I asked, even though I kind of already knew what.

“Don’t get mad,” he said, making a face.

If it was what I thought it was, I wouldn’t get mad. I smiled. “What!”

“Please, please, please, promise me you’ll never cook again,” he said, and he said this very seriously.

Just as I’d thought. And I don’t blame the guy. I’m a horrible cook. Even on the airplane when all we have to do is stick it in the oven and heat it up, you want me in the aisle, not in the galley. Unless of course you like your biscuits burnt.

Okay, normally I’d probably think the no cooking idea was a really good idea, considering the fact I don’t even like my own cooking. (Except for soup, because I’m a fantastic soup maker, as well as a black eyed pea maker – for those of you who have yet to try the recipe posted below.) The only problem I have with my husbands most recent request (actually it sounded more like begging than requesting) is besides losing weight, getting pregnant, and signing a book deal (not in that particular order), my 2008 new year’s resolution is to learn how to cook. For real. Even though I truly believe cooking is an art and that you either you have it or you don’t, I’m determined to learn. And so the husband must continue to be tortured throughout the upcoming new year. Poor guy. Tonight I’m going to try something quite daring, a new recipe, Cuban picadillo. The picture in the cookbook looks fantastic. Keep your fingers crossed. For his sake.

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Filed under cooking, The Husband

He Loves Me.

My Husband is so in love with me today, it’s kind of starting to freak me out. Seriously. And no, we have not been to a marriage counselor. Nor did we have wild and crazy sex last night. What we did do is go shopping this weekend. Yes, I actually was able to drag the husband out during one of the busiest shopping weekends of the year. And a little over five hours ago The Husband walked into the living room dressed in his usual “I’ll be working downtown” attire of tan khaki pants and an earth toned button down shirt, and said, and he said this with a very serious, yet loving face, “I love you, Heather Poole. I really do. I don’t know why, but I’m really feeling it this morning.”

Well I know why. I know exactly why he was feeling it this morning. Because I, too, was feeling it. Love. For real. And it made me giggle.

The husband cocked his head and said, “Do you think it’s the curtains?”

“Oh yeah, for sure, it’s definitely the curtains,” I said, and I said it matter of fact as I smiled at the latest addition to our house. And I didn’t just think it. I knew it. What else could it be?

And because of the way my husband was feeling, I jumped into the mommy mobile and drove to the nearest shopping center as fast as I could the minute he left for work. Hey, girlfriend here knows when to take advantage of the sitche-ation. Though not as well as I’d like. Because all I ended up with was a $14 sundress that was on sale at a dress-for-less kind of place, and a big yellow dump truck and one of those “popcorn” push around thingies for the little one.

Back to the curtains. It’s true, I have to admit, they have seriously changed our lives. Who would have thought that six panels of forest green silk could make such a difference in our house? Honestly, I can’t believe it myself. But they do, those beautiful drapes add a sense of peacefulness we have not felt in years – three years to be exact.

“It’s weird,” my husband said, gazing across the room lovingly as the silk oh so slightly quivered in the breeze, “but when I used to walk into this room I felt such rage. But now…” Inhale. Exhale. “I can breath.”

Me, too. It’s so nice to breath again.

The “before” curtains were actually gold silk sari’s I’d found online after an exhaustive month long search. They were pretty. They really were. Just not in my house.

And here they are, all wadded up in a plastic grocery bag. At first, as hard as it was going to be, I’d planned on dropping them in the trash. But as I headed out the door The Husband stopped me with, “Hey, uh, maybe I’ll wear them for Halloween!” That cracked him up. But it got me thinking…maybe I could cut them up and make, oh, I don’t know, drink coasters, or something. And then The Husband suggested making the munchkin an exotic tent. And that’s when an even better idea came to mind. Oh yeah, this one’s good. I’ll be wrapping those suckers up and sending them to SOMEONE, a one who will remain nameless, for her yearly Christmas gag gift. Along with a recycled ten pound fruit cake.

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Filed under The Husband

Cathay Pacific

For those obsessed with flying, a funny email from the husband who traveled in first class from Los Angeles to Hong Kong on Cathay Pacific…

This flight was better than anyone could put in words. I have my own little cabin with a desk internet and movies. I was given a Shanghai Tzen pajama set and ammenity kit and a huge down pillow and comforter. My seat reclines to a full bed and I have a privacy shield. I even used all the cool lotions in the two bathrooms shared by 14 people. The toilet was spotless the whole trip. The food and presentation was better than a restaurant. I have to list it b4 I forget. Smoked salmon shashimi with Caviar. Cream of mushroom soup Salad greens with scallops and shrimp. THAT WAS ONLY THE APPY AND SALAD FOR LUNCH!The lunch was a lobster stirfry with soup bok choy and a cold tofu salad. After two more movies I had a hot panini with prociutto grilled veggie and cheese. Another movie and I had a noodle soup with duck breast. NO FAT. Pure breast. Dinner wasn’t as good. Large fruit plate followed by grilled rack of lamb and potatoes. The coffee is great. My traveling friend in business told me that I would not be able to ever fly business class now that this happened. He just came downstairs to ask me if he was right. If I can’t swindle an upgrade home I think I may pay the difference. If I turned around now and came back to LA I would be happy. This guy larry is great. He is 50 or so and has had his company. Here for years. We are going to share a cab to the hotel and have dinner tommorrow night. He gave me the names of his personal tailor and the directions to the good stores. I m about to land so I think I’m going to go to the bathroom and shave or something. Maybe a facial ???(AIRLINE NAME DELETED DUE TO OBVIOUS REASONS) BLOWS!!!!!!!Love you!

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Filed under Airplane Food, Cathay Pacific, First Class, The Husband

Too much food.

Yeah, umm, that’s what the middle-aged waiter said while rolling the husbands moo shu chicken into a burritolike wrapper Friday night. It was date night. There aren’t too many date nights around here anymore, not since the birth of my son, who just so happened to be the third wheel on our romantic night out at a local B rated Chinese restaurant a few blocks from our house. And as if that wasn’t enough, the waiter then shook his head in disgust, practically tossing the plate on the table, before mumbling, too much food, again! I’m sorry, but them is fighting words. TOO MUCH FOOD? Excuse me? Of course the husband let it slide. Now let me point out, snaggle tooth wasn’t exactly the picture of health with his little paunch hidden behind a black satin cumberbun. Oh no, he couldn’t hide that belly behind the stained white tuxedo shirt. My face, I’m sure, turned red, as I could feel the anger seething inside, and just as I was about to say something, though I’m not sure exactly what I planned on saying, the husband gently placed his hand on mine, smiled, and said, “let it go.” Then he took a bite of his oriental burrito and sighed in ecstasy. Let it go? Look, when you’ve got thirty pounds to lose, and nothing fits, NOT ONE THING, and you’ve been working out so hard with minimal results, harder than you’ve ever worked out in your entire life, harder than you did when you were a size 6/7 and at the top of your game, words like TOO MUCH FOOD have a tendency to trigger rage. In fact, 2 days later, as I sip my orange jubilee EAS protein shake, and as I wait for the munchkin to wake from his morning nap so we can pile into the mommy mobile and head off to the gym, I’m still bothered by it. But I’m also hoping to use the anger to fuel me through another long and torturous thirty minutes on the treadmill. Too much food my…

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Filed under Food, The Husband