This week's Word of the Week is: Mustache
The kids started Polish School last Friday. Typically on Friday nights Steve and I will drop the kids off at school, and head out for dinner. Last Friday Steve had to work, so I dropped the kids off at school, stayed for a bit of the parent meeting, and then headed out to shop.
There is a store down the way that has bargains...again, you know me and good bargains. I got Ben and Cici, both, 2-3 books. And I got Steve a belt. Steve's current belt is all tattered around the holes. He hasn't complained about it, but I certainly noticed it.
I have been on the hunt for a black belt with a gold buckle for some time now. Do you know how hard it is to find a freakin' black belt with a gold buckle!? Not easy...unless you are shopping at a bargain store. I was pleased to find exactly what I was looking for...100% genuine leather...all for the bargain price of $5.99.
And Steve doesn't look like a slob.
Steve got his schedule on Sunday. On Monday, I texted him and asked him to email me his schedule. He told me he would.
2 hours later I texted him the request again.
You see...I have shit to plan. I have a new book club invite that I have to plan for. I also have a business trip I have to plan for. There is a lot of pending activities that I have on my calendar. I need to change my current RSVP of "I want to come, but I have to wait on Steve's schedule" to a "yes" or "no."
Mama needs said schedule to get my life in order.
Steve finally emailed me his schedule on Tuesday, but only after I had to ask him again.
We are hosting our second annual Halloween Party. Steve has always loved Halloween and getting into costume and character. Last year our theme was "Political". I was Melania Trump. Steve went as Putin. This year's theme is Favorite Sitcom. I won't give away Steve's costume just yet, but I can say that the character has a mustache. Steve is now growing out a mustache.
Let me get one thing clear. I hate mustaches.
I didn't always have such a strong opinion on facial hair...until I started to date a pilot. And then I got married to a pilot. This means I have been with a clean-shaven man for 19 years. I have been conditioned to a clean shave. For those that don't know, Steve can't wear facial hair unless it's a mustache to the corner of his mouth - it's an oxygen mask thing.
Steve will grow out his facial hair when not working. I don't mind the stubble over the weekend. I don't even mind the stubble over a week+ vacation. In fact, I sort of like the rugged look. But, I hate it when it gets growing out for over 2 weeks. That's when he is constantly feeling his facial hair...gliding his hand down his cheeks...over and over. Try kissing a man with a 'stache, or oral sex...have you ever rubbed sand paper over your lady bits? Not pleasant.
So, think of me over the next couple weeks as I deal with Steve growing out a 'stache. I asked him to just wear a fake one, but he won't have any part in that. My co-worker thinks a mustache is totally part of the pilot gig. I, on the other hand, totally disagree.
Coming soon, a blog post about my 3-day from hell. Sometimes I rock at this pilot wife thing. Most times I do okay. And other times I suck at it, which is what these past 3 days has been.