#113 He Dislikes Daylight Savings Time

We all moan and groan in the spring when we lose an hour and have to spring forward.  This cruelty and unfairness is completely gone from mind when in the fall we gain an extra hour.  Hubby, the ever rebellious individual that he is, not only dislikes daylights savings time during "Spring Forward", he also hates it during "Fall Back".

This I can't imagine.  How could anyone ever dislike having an extra hour added to their day?!

Yet Hubby still declares to me twice a year that it is preposterous that America has adopted such an idea as to adjust our clocks to fit in accordance with the seasons.*  In fact, early in our marriage I distinctly remember his standpoint and my urge to challenge him leading into a wham bang drag out argument.  

*Note: There are more reasons and Hubby would probably have my neck for simplifying it to such a basic point.  Unfortunately, this is the way my mind summed up his issue.

One hour, even as an adult, can be like a million years.  The freedom and possibilities that lie within one hours are endless.  Somehow the knowledge of that one extra hour made this weekend more glorious and noteworthy for me than ordinary 48 hour weekends.*

*Second Note: My weekend really begins around 5:00 on Friday.  In my mind, the weekend is truly 55 hours long, but for argument's sake, I wrote 48.  Whew, glad we cleared that up.

I zoomed from work to home to Hubby's work on Friday night to pick him up.  From there we headed back to that famous highway that I recently wrote about to go to a wedding of one of Hubby's coworkers.  In my mind, this was the start of the loss of my extra hour.  The wedding started at 6:30 pm and the reception would go until midnight.  This left the certainty that we would not arrive home until at least 1:30 am.

We pulled up to High Lawn Pavilion in West Orange, NJ and everything changed when I saw this:

Instantly I regretted not being in the habit of carrying my DSLR on my person at all times.  Yet, it would have been quite impossible to squeeze it into the little clutch I had brought along that night.  I was left with a smart phone picture of the breathtaking view of one of my favorite places.  

If it hadn't been so cold out, I would have stood and enjoyed the view deep into the night.  But it was cold and Hubby had friends waiting inside, so we walked away--translated: Hubby dragged me away.

From the start of the wedding, to the cocktail hour, to dinner, and even, gasp, dancing* I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

*Dancing ordinarily isn't my thing.  Ordinarily as in never.

The bride was gorgeous, and the love between her family and her new family was strongly represented.

I had such a good time, that I actually lost track of time and didn't mind the fact that I was still up at 11:30 pm and over 50 miles from home.

Does this picture make anyone else want to start singing Eiffel 65's "I'm Blue".  Da boo dee da boo die?

With this late night start to my weekend, one would imagine that I would spend my extra hour on Saturday recuperating.  Unfortunately, Saturday mornings do not lend extra sleep time for me since I teach piano lessons bright and early.

Somehow, I managed to find enough sleep, teach my lessons, and still be in a decent mood by the afternoon.

Because of a series of boring reasons and events, Hubby's car was at work and we needed to get it before the weekend ended.  After giving me a variety of options for how and when we could get the car, I told Hubby the best choice was to go shopping fifteen minutes north of his work at the Jersey Gardens Mall and then get his car on the way home.

Shopping is always the best option to make a long trip worthwhile.  

Even at this point, I only thought I was spending my extra hour shopping at the mall.  But before I knew it, it was 8:00 pm (really 7:00 pm) and I was back at home.  We had a quick bite to eat, then decided to go back out shopping because apparently we hadn't already had enough.  

Our next shopping trip wasn't for ourselves.  At least, it didn't start that way.  Somehow a few things for me found their way into our basket.  

Our church is participating in Samaritan's Purse: Operation Christmas Child.  Hubby and I decided to put together two boxes, one for a boy and one for a girl.  It was fun picking out little gifts to bless someone else this Christmas.

Saturday night I found myself in bed at my normal Saturday night time (irregardless of Daylight Savings Time) and Sunday morning, when Daylight Savings actually occurs, I woke up at my normal time.  When I turned over I was met face to face with a tray filled with breakfast delights that Hubby had prepared for me.

Looks like the extra hour gave him something extra to do as well.

Of course, I was half way through my eggs before I thought to take a picture of Hubby's thoughtful surprise.

Sunday afternoon, I was still left with time on my hands.  Hubby asked me to sew a button on a jacket he planned to take on a business trip this week.

What started with just this:

turned into this:

and then this:

The moral of this nonsensically long post is that one hour extra provided by Daylight Savings Time isn't just an hour.  It is a world of possibilities for things that can be done and accomplished if faced with the right attitude.

I wonder if I'll feel the same around March, 2014.

#110 He Cleans Up His Spills

I think by now I've made it clear that I love the city of New York.

Here are a few past posts where I've written about some aspect of the city:

Post about Caffe Bene

Just an average day in the city

Meeting Pioneer Woman in NYC

Most times, we try to avoid the crazy parts of the city.  Crazy = Times Square.  This past Saturday we found ourselves right in the center of it all.  Leading me to this post: a rant about just a few of the things about the city that I hate.

1. The combined smell of cigarettes and subway.  This is typically one of those 'deal with it' things about the city.  That smell?  It's a part of city life.  However, on Saturday, I did not subscribe to my own opinion.  Aside from the fact that it was much warmer than I expected it to be (therefore I was constantly switching from wearing my jacket to not wearing it), I felt myself absorbing the city smells much faster than any normal day in the city.  As we drove home, Hubby began to sense it too.  He finally asked which one of us was smoking because the car smelled so much like cigarettes.  When we reached home he realized he had a cigarette butt stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

The summation of this point is that the city smells bad enough due to subways, we don't need cigarette butts all over adding to the stench.  Although I'm not about telling people that they can't do something like smoke, something needs to be done about the maddening smell of this city.  I'm thinking they should install some sort of oil burners on every corner.  How does the scent 'Apple Pie' sound?

2. People walk within the same standard of how they drive.  Everyone is so incredibly selfish in the way they walk.  Yes, we're all trying to get somewhere.  Yes, most of us are trying to get there quickly (except for the slow pokes that need to be cut around).  But at least let's all try to stick to one common understanding, one common rule for drivers and walkers in America: Stay to the right!

3. People who stop dead in their tracks.  Never, ever, NEVER stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk.  Move over to the side.  It will be a sad day, but I will run you over with a force that the Hulk himself would be afraid of.

4. Two words: chain restaurants.  I never go to chain restaurants in the city.  Being that this weekend I happened to be there with my little brother, I made an exception.  He wanted to go to a scary restaurant.  We had gone to Jekyll and Hyde last year, and he loved it.  We decided to try out Times Scare's restaurant, only to find that they had a private party and were closed for the day.  We called Jekyll and Hyde to find they had no reservations left for the day.  As a last minute resort, we went with our fall back: Planet Hollywood.  Jonathan cannot be happy with simply good food.  No, he needs a themed restaurant and by this point Hubby and I were tired and cranky.

Chain restaurants, especially in the city, are the most expensive restaurants and for no good reason whatsoever.  A milkshake was $6.99.  A milkshake!  That's the price of two tall Starbucks lattes!

Knowing that the following day I would be having a burger for lunch, I avoided the only option that was probably a decent tasting option, the burgers, and went with Lasagna Roll Ups, for $18.99, that were lukewarm and bland.  Hubby and Jonathan both ordered lunch meat sandwiches (because even though we were there at 5:00 we were given lunch menus....um, ok?) which were $15.99 and had half the pictured amount of meat on them.

Although my belly was angry, Jonathan was happy.  Jonathan being upset can be almost as bad as having a terrible meal, so I decided to leave well enough alone and force myself to be happy.

Yet to all the NYC chain restaurants I say this:

Never again.

5. Strollers.  It should be illegal to have a stroller in the city.  (Okay, I suppose there are certain things that I'm okay with telling people they can't do).  I detest strollers in the city, especially in overcrowded areas like Times Square.  The hustle and bustle of the city is too much for your little tykes.  Leave them at home.

I know, I'm brutal.

(This also goes for people who decide to use rolling luggage and walk super slow with it so that I nearly walk on top of it four billion times).

Finally, there was a positive.

After our horrible meal, Hubby and I knew the one thing that would undoubtedly cheer us up: Caffe Bene.  We could taste the smooth delight of their mocha frappe as we trudged through the crowded streets.  There was a moment of frustration where I'll admit, I almost lost hope.  "Let's just go to the car and get something on the way home," I said.  But Hubby persevered and we arrived at Caffe Bene, tired, exhausted, but glad we were there.  We ordered our drinks and the most tasty delights you could imagine.  Can you believe that I didn't take any pictures of them?!  This next part will explain why.  I waited for Hubby and my drinks to be made as Hubby and Jonathan went to find a spot to sit in.  There was some mix up on my name and the girl making my drink was screaming for "Suzanne".  Well, I'm not Suzanne so I didn't answer.  Until I mentioned that they were my drinks she was making and she looked at me and said, "So, you're Suzanne," to which I said, "No, I'm Jessica".  She apologized for the name mix up from our cashier and asked me if we wanted whipped cream, then gave me our drinks.

No sooner had I put Hubby's drink down and began finding solace in my own then Hubby had reached across the table for something, brought his hand back, just barely hit the tip of his straw with his arm and sent his drink crashing down on the floor and pouring out everywhere.

His face read:  That is it.  I have had it with this day.

I would have reacted the same exact way.  I got up to go buy him another drink and he said, "No, don't."  To which I ignored him and continued down the steps and around the bend towards the register.  I ordered the drink and said, "My husband dropped his upstairs," not in an effort to get anything out of it, but just so that she would send someone to clean it up so that my already aggravated husband didn't put a hole through their floor.

She called over to the girl who thought I was Suzanne, told her to make me another drink, and then told me to go wait for it.

I offered to pay and she shook her head.  She didn't check with anyone, and she wasn't the girl who had rung me up before.

I wanted to kiss her face.

There's something about people watching out for people and the general kindness that one person can give to another that makes you know there is still some good in this world.

Needless to say, if I didn't already love Caffe Bene before, which is just preposterous, I'm totally sold now.