Change the channel.

Husband and I have knack for making life complicated. We’re accident prone, the two of us, together and separately. We both like to take the long way, the back roads, with the windows rolled down even if it’s raining a little.

We like to make things from scratch, like noodles and pies and soup, even if we don’t have a recipe or a professional at hand. We like to mix our drinks strong. We like to make big plans and then take our time getting there.

We like to do things ourselves. Like, you know, finishing houses.

I think we drive our families crazy.

We must. We drive ourselves crazy. I mean, we’ve only moved six times in the last six years of marriage. We’re only on our third major home renovation/construction.

We’re only, almost, almost, almost done.

railing 2

But not quite, despite the fact that it’s all we’ve been doing for the last two months: get up, clean up the dishes from the night before, get dressed, go to work, come home, put on work clothes, find a project, tile something, varnish something, sweep something, move something, put carpet on something, saw something, paint something, look at the clock and say “damn, it’s 10 already,” and then wonder out loud what to have for supper while you pour a bowl of cereal and pull the popsicles from the freezer.

Needless to say, we’re kind of tired. And between the dreary weather, our less than adequate diet, all the mud being tracked in on the floor and the saw dust in the air, I’m not surprised to find we’re slipping a bit.

laying carpetA few weeks ago Husband called me while I was on the road to a photo shoot. He had to tell me he just got out of the bathroom to discover that he had been walking around all day with a pair of my pink underwear shoved up the sleeve of his shirt, a result of a quick attempt at finishing the laundry.

I wondered out loud if they were my pretty pink underwear or my raggedy, embarrassing pink underwear.

He said it didn’t matter, his wife’s underwear up his sleeve at work was embarrassing, pretty or not.

And now I’ve gone and put it on the internet, which I guess, is probably even more embarrassing.

But whatever. It’s funny. I laughed hysterically at the thought. So did my friend in the passenger seat of the car as I relayed the sad story of what our lives have  become.

Now, I don’t know if I’ve shared this here or not, but in the time we’ve been living back at the ranch we’ve been approached by a few different production companies about following us around for a reality show. One in particular wanted to fly Husband to Georgia to try out for a deep fat frying cooking competition. They said they like how he looks and like what he deep fat fries.


I guess that’s what happens when you put your life on the internet, but a reality show on the two of us is a ridiculous idea. We’re not as pretty as the Kardashians and we don’t have enough free time to manage as many redneck adventures as the guys on Duck Dynasty. The only thing that would be entertaining about following us around with a camera would be watching all the ways I manage to screw up during the day and hearing all of the one-liners Husband manages to deliver at my expense.

Cut to last Friday where a late and very sick Jessie attempts to make it to a doctors appointment in the pouring rain only to find that her way is blocked by a semi jack-knifed and stuck across her parents’ approach and the road leading to the highway, forcing her to turn around and brave the monsoon on ten miles of muddy, deteriorating, pot-holey, all around shitty road.

Listen to her cuss as she drives a little too fast and defies the ditch and her death.

See her wave her arms at the sky and plead for the rain to stop.

Watch as she explains the situation to the receptionist at the clinic right before she gets diagnosed with bronchitis and a sinus infection and heads out to the pharmacy to load up on $150 worth of medication. Notice that she didn’t pick up her inhaler thingy, but she won’t realize it until she gets home in the monsoon.

But before she can get home Jessie needs gas. Now watch her overflow her gas tank at the local Cenex in the pouring rain while a trucker at the neighboring pump munches on a candy bar and declares it six gallons of environmental hazard.

Watch her face clench as she contemplates calling him an environmental hazard.

Cut to Jessie at home attempting to make a rhubarb cake without a cake pan for a party starting in approximately 35 minutes. Listen as she sweetly asks her husband to go borrow one from her momma.

Now watch as she puts together a dip she’s made for years with cream cheese instead of sour cream. Now look at that, she just dropped an entire container of cherry tomatoes on the floor. She’s cleaning them up now as her husband walks in, but it looks like she missed a few hanging out in the bottom of the fridge. Hope she doesn’t close the…oh, look at that, she closed the door.

See the tomatoes squish.

Watch her fling her body face first on the bed as her husband tells her she needs to pay attention.

So that would be one episode.


I mean, if I had a dollar for every time my dearly beloved stood above me as I am sprawled out on the floor, shaking his head and wishing out loud that I would just “pay attention”, I would be rich enough to hire someone to finish building this house for crying out loud.

That’s one way I could avoid falling into bucket of grout water.

Uff. Da. Our reality show would make you all feel better about your organized, saw dustless, home renovation-less,  mud-free, squished-tomato-free,underwear-up-your-sleeve-free life.

Some days I wish I could change the channel.

Horse frustration

19 thoughts on “Change the channel.

  1. Don’t do the reality show. It might break up your marriage to have your “dirty laundry” aired in public.

  2. Pingback: Change the channel. [Jessy Veeder] | El Noticiero de Alvarez Galloso

  3. What a hoot! I would like to be a little mouse in your house & car!! I am a “klytz” myself so I really understand you!!

  4. Love how you write. I feel like I was there. If life was perfect, you’d have nothing to say. I’d miss that.

  5. Good grief, you have a way of making the sun shine even on a soggy day. You guys are such a cute couple, I’m sure reality TV would love it all but it never seems to have a happy ending those shows.

  6. I’d happily follow along but, like others have said, once you sign on the dotted line the producers can take any and all footage, twist your words and make you look like you hate each other. And we know that’s not true. Don’t do it.


  7. I cannot imagine building a house and having a full time job at the same time. In the end you will be sitting having a drink and you will notice some little thing, be it an irregular tile or a imperfection in drywall that nobody else sees and smile to yourself about the memories of building a house together.

  8. You guys crack me up! I can be a klutz too, but unfortunately I tend to save those special moments for when I’m at work ha! My fave: when it was my first day of my new job at the bank, and I was curious about the little button at my desk. I pulled it out. Next thing I knew, the cops had the building surrounded. Great first impression.

  9. Jess, You could write a show based on your life and Sandra Bullock could play you and Mathew Maconahey (that spelling wont come but you know who I mean) could play your husband!
    Unfortunately that would take you away from the life that you have turned into some of the best entertainment I get on a regualr basis. So lets let that one go also.
    Hope you are feeling better!!!

  10. I think if my husband told me to “pay attention” under most circumstances, I would fling whatever I happened to have in my hand at him!! I sympathize with klutz, but I tend to be so at even more inopportune moments….like walking down the street on a first date and stepping into a hole in the sidewalk and wind up sprawled all over said sidewalk. He married me anyway…said he thought I was just “falling for him.”

  11. I love that you can always find the humor in things. Love that you are willing to share your life. I am a “pay attention” kind of gal…mostly too much paying attention. Surprised my analness (is that a word) doesn’t drive my husband insane. However my 17 year is not a “pay attention” kind of guy and I worry about how he will make it in the world. Well after reading your post, I know how, with his sense of humor intact, enjoying the world. Thanks for giving me a new perspective.

  12. Uf.Da. My grandfather used to say that in mock amazement. He didn’t say a lot; but was very funny when he did. Thanks for your funny article and using that Norwegian saying to stimulate my memory.

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