Fists of Fury

The Hubby's Favorite Gift

My hubby, who is the self-proclaimed King of Christmas, is incredibly difficult to shop for. The majority of the things he wants are either way too expensive, or they are something that the man needs to pick out himself... like the vintage Fender Telecaster that has been on his list for the past few years. It's a problem.

In the early years of our marriage, the man would go into some kind-of trance and begin buying everything that he ever wanted during the four weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I cannot even begin to tell you how many gifts I had to return during those days.

I would end up completely frustrated and the hubby... Well, he would wake up to a near empty stocking on Christmas morning. Ah, memories.

Thankfully, our marriage survived and the hubby gave up his self-shopping ways. I, on the other hand, have started paying careful attention to everything that the hubby mentions wanting during the year.

Apple releases a new Magic Mouse and the hubby comments that it's cool... I order one. He ponders that he would like to watch the new Kings of Leon DVD... I buy it. He wishes he had a pair of black Blundstone boots... I track down an enormous size 13. When my loot arrives, I wrap it and stash it in the attic or under my side of the bed for safe keeping until Christmas Eve.

I am happy to tell you that the hubby was pleasantly surprised by what he found under the tree. That said, I must admit that I was surprised by his favorite gift.

Like myself, the hubby is a lover of good coffee, specifically espresso. After doing a little research, I purchased a Bialetti Stovetop Espresso Maker and a set of Bormioli Rocco Verdi Espresso and Cappuccino cups.

The hubby wasted no time in taking the espresso maker for a test drive once all of the gifts had been opened and the wrapping paper and boxes were thrown away.

The verdict... It makes the best cup of espresso that the hubby has ever had. EVER. To add some context I must tell you that the man has tasted many amazing cups during his travels to the far corners of the earth.

I guess that officially makes me the Queen of Christmas.

A Christmas Recap

We had a delightful Christmas here at the Ha house. How about you, dear readers? I certainly hope that your holiday was equally as enjoyable.

My only complaint was that our house is located in the dreaded no-snow zone. While two-thirds of the United States enjoyed a white Christmas, we had temperatures in the lower 40's with strong winds gusting to 30 mph. All of the chill, but none of the thrill.

I'm still dreaming of a white Christmas... Sigh.

For the past several years our Christmas Eve meal has consisted of whatever sounded good at the time. This year was different. We enjoyed the traditional Ha family meal... Grandma Ha's seafood pasta sauce. Lobster, clams, muscles, shrimp, crab legs... all swimming in a garlicky tomato sauce. Was it ever delicious.

What brought about this change for the tastier? Why the boy, of course. Despite his partial Italian roots, the child refused to put tomato sauce on his pasta. He would drink the stuff straight out of a glass, but wanted to eat his noodles adorned with only a little butter and Parmesan. Something changed a few months ago and the boy now eats his pasta like a good little Italian boy should.

After our bellies were sufficiently stuffed, the fellows and I decided to attend our church's Christmas Eve service. The candlelit service began at o'dark thirty, better known around here as 10:30 pm. We weren't sure if the boy would make it until the end, but to our surprise he didn't expire until he was safely buckled into the car for the ride home.

Needless to say, the hubby and I were up entirely too late. After lugging the boy from the car to his bed, we had to wait to make sure he had slipped back into his coma-like sleep before starting our jobs as Santa's little helpers.

Plus there is the part where I had to drink the eggnog and eat all of the cookies and carrots that the boy had left for the jolly old soul and his reindeer. It was hard work, but somebody had to do it.

Despite the late night, the boy was up at 7:00 sharp on Christmas morning. When he barged into our bedroom shouting, "Wake up! Christmas has arrived," I was in the middle of a strange dream and was completely disoriented. It took me a solid minute to figure out what in the world the child was talking about.

As I stumbled out to the living room, my eyes locked on what will forever be known as one of the best gifts I have ever received...


A baby blue Novara Mia Cruiser. My guys had secretly purchased it weeks ago and stashed it at the hubby's office. Sneaky fellows.

The Cruiser is hands down, the most comfortable bike I have ever ridden. The seat is so squishy that I could literally ride for miles. I may even add a basket so that I can use my new wheels to run errands.

The boy is pushing for a nice metal basket. I, on the other hand, am leaning towards this little wicker number. Isn't it cute?

When I first showed the wicker basket to my boy, he proclaimed that it would make me "look like a girl" when I ride my bike. I responded, "Newsflash, son. I AM a girl." Apparently he had forgotten.

Speaking of the boy, he has now reached the point of total exhaustion. He has spent the past two days playing with the new accessories that go with his Playmobil Pirates and Knights sets, hunting for buried treasure with his metal detector, fighting off the Clone army with his Star Wars Turbo Tank, and pounding out endless beats on his drum kit inspired by his new cymbals, cowbell and tambourine.

Check back in tomorrow to hear about the hubby's favorite gift. Until then, I hope you enjoy what's left of your weekend.

Blanket Wrestling

The hubby and I have been staying up entirely too late the past few nights watching movies on our new television. I have been forced to concede that things do look better when viewed on a ginormous screen. As if there was any doubt before, the hubby is keeping the TV.

Despite our late nights, I am feeling quite chipper this morning. Why, you might ask? Simply, I have been able to sleep in until 8:30 for two days in a row. Oh, how I love Christmas break!

When the hubby and I went to bed last night, we stopped to check on our sleeping boy. As usual, his lanky body was stretched out across his bed with nary a blanket in sight. They had been tossed or kicked from the bed as the boy slept.

After making sure that the child was sufficiently covered, we retired to our room.

As we climbed into bed, I wondered aloud about when the boy would stop kicking off his covers. He is, after all, eight. Even my four-year-old niece, who was just here for a visit, sleeps with her hands folded by her face, blankets pulled up neatly to her little chin.

Our boy seems to flail around his bed, wreaking havoc with his covers on a nightly basis.

The hubby lay there listening and then explained, "We Ha men wrestle our covers to wring out every last bit of comfort. It is one thing to be covered and quite another to be comfortable."

I had to chuckle. The hubby does wrestle the covers at night... one minute he is buried, the next all or parts of his body exposed to the night air. When we were first married, his constant tossing and turning would keep me up at night. After seventeen years, I have finally learned to sleep through just about anything.

This blanket wresting thing is just one more way that my boys are strangely alike. Genetics sure are a crazy thing.