Mr. Handsome

Treadmill Land Mines

March 24, 2020 by 10 Comments

Little Buddy has discovered a new favorite pastime–trying to permanently disable Daddy!

Our home has a little nook where we keep the treadmill, which I (Mr. Handsome) bought as a gift for Ellie for a whopping $40–I know, I’m a generous gift giver. We put a baby gate right in front of the nook so we can run on the treadmill and watch Little Buddy play safely in front of us. It was a brilliant idea, which I can’t take credit for because Ellie was the one who found the baby gate, and allowed us to exercise while watching Little Buddy. Having a treadmill at home has been especially nice while we have been quarantined due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Last week, Little Buddy decided he was not happy with this arrangement. He started by standing up against the baby gate and giving me his sad puppy dog eyes. “I am such a cute little baby, and I want you to play with me, not exercise,” he seemed to say. I smiled back and started making funny faces at him, hoping to provide some entertainment.

Well that was not acceptable to Little Buddy. He quickly changed tactics and began whining and moaning to show how unhappy he was. I began making animal sounds and singing baby songs on the treadmill to show him that we could still have fun even when I was on the treadmill.

Little Buddy was still not impressed and decided to take action. He began picking up his toys and throwing them onto the moving treadmill. (I must say, he has a pretty good arm.) I now had to dodge Mega Bloks, balls, and Fisher-Price Little People animals to avoid stepping on a land mine and completely wiping out. My workout had turned into a fight for my life!

Common sense would have told me to stop the workout right then and there, but as a typical man, I could not let myself be outsmarted by my toddler. So I started dancing around on the treadmill, trying to avoid the toys as they whizzed by. This turned out be be exceedingly entertaining to Little Buddy, and he began laughing and dancing around too.

In the end, a good time was had by all. I got a workout in, and Little Buddy got the chance to torture Daddy.

The Purge: Closet Edition

February 12, 2020 by 19 Comments

Written by Mr. Handsome

The start of a new year can mean many things: resolutions, goals, diet plans, fresh starts, and in this house, my yearly closet purge performed by my loving wife Ellie.

The regular readers of this blog will know that Ellie likes to be tidy and organized, so it should be no surprise that one of her favorite things to do is “de-clutter.” The term “de-clutter” is a very nice and pleasant way of describing the savagery that ensues during a closet purge. Nothing is safe.

One minute you may be a perfectly good sweater in good standing, hanging in the closet. Sure I haven’t worn you in five years. Sure you haven’t been in style for a good five years before that. But you have dutifully done your job hanging in the closet and looking quite respectable, only to be rewarded by finding yourself stuffed into a storage box labeled “sell/hand-me downs.”

Or if you have been deemed by the Ellie to be particularly despicable, you may find yourself crumpled into the garbage bag destined for Goodwill. But you should still count yourself lucky, because every year there will be a few unsuspecting articles destined to be tortured, torn apart, and placed in the rag pile.

The first sign of the impending purge is the arrival of new Christmas clothes, usually purchased on Black Friday. These clothes are typically stylish, well pressed, and undoubtedly chosen for me by Ellie. As Ellie is hanging up these new clothes and imagining her husband looking halfway presentable for a change, you may find her eyes drawn to a few of my, shall we say, “historic” pieces.

You may hear her remark, “Well the closet sure seems full these days.” I may say something like, “Well I am just thankful for what I have. I bet the folks in third-world countries would be thankful to have good clothes like this.” To which Ellie will reply, “Yes, I bet they would particularly enjoy this pair of sweatpants with 3 holes in them, four coffee stains, and some paint from back when you painted your parents’ house in the twelfth grade.” And thus the great purge begins.

I usually make some feeble attempts to support a particular article of clothing. I may say, “This neon green shirt would be great if I find myself stranded on a deserted island. The search helicopters could see me from a good ten miles away.” Or, “The holes in the seat of this old pair of jeans provide extra air conditioning.” Or one of my personal favorites, “Just because I haven’t worn this shirt in five years doesn’t mean I won’t find the perfect opportunity to wear it tomorrow.” To which Ellie says, “If you find the perfect opportunity to wear it tomorrow, we’ll keep it.”

At the end of the day, the purge works out pretty well because I end up with new clothes, Ellie gets a clean closet, and Goodwill gets a sizeable donation. Of course I always save a few classics from the purge out of the kindness of my heart and out of the spirit of Christmas.

Mr. Handsome’s Embarrassing Moment

January 8, 2020 by 19 Comments

Some embarrassing moments are so traumatizing that they stick with you forever. This particular moment happened when I was eight years old and has somehow remained in my mind for over two decades. I have not told this story to anyone, so you lucky readers are the first to hear it. Ellie hadn’t even heard it until she proofread this post.

The day started out as any normal Sunday morning did, with my mother choosing my clothes. She selected a brand new, bright orange pair of dress pants. Looking back, I still have no idea why she chose those pants, but apparently that was the fashion back in the mid-’90s.

It had just rained the night before, so my mother reminded me not to get my new pants muddy. Today was picture day at Sunday School, and I guess she wanted me to look respectable. I personally was looking forward to showing off my fancy style to my eight-year-old crush, little Ms. Suzie.

It was a beautiful spring day, so our Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Hildebrandt, decided to take pictures outside. There was a hill that went up one side of the church and made a nice background for the photo. She first corralled the boys and took our group photo. As soon as the camera clicked, the boys raced up the hill and started a good game of tag. “Get off the hill so we can take the girls’ picture!” Mrs. Hildebrandt squawked.

As the other boys ran off the hill, I noticed a bush about halfway down and came up with a brilliant idea: I could just hide behind the bush during the picture. This idea was particularly good because it meant that I would have a head start once the game of tag resumed. As the girls lined up for their picture, I jumped behind the bush. The bush was slightly shorter than my waist height, so I decided to kneel down.

As I scrunched down, my right knee squished into the moist dirt and to my horror left a stain on my new bright orange pants. “Mother’s going to be mad,” I thought, “I have to try another position.” So I moved into what would now be described as the downward dog yoga position.

In this position, you keep your legs straight and lean forward so your hands touch the ground. Right as I performed the downward dog behind the bush, I heard the camera snap. “Perfect timing,” I thought. “I got out of the way just in time.”

Now that smartphones have revolutionized the photo industry, many of us can hardly remember the days of camera film. Once you took a picture, you had to haul the film over to the drugstore and have it developed. No instant gratification like we have today. “I will have your pictures hanging in the classroom next Sunday.” Mrs. Hildebrandt reported.

The following Sunday, I was super excited to see little Ms. Suzie and to see our group photographs. I joined my friends and rushed into the Sunday school classroom. We bounded through the door and gasped in horror at the girls’ picture.

It wasn’t that the girls didn’t look nice. They were all dressed in their Sunday best and formed a neat little line at the base of the hill. But about halfway up the hill was a bush, and behind the bush was a bright orange rear end sticking up in the air! “Whose backside is that?” exclaimed little Ms. Suzie.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “It could have been anyone.”

“Well why don’t we check the boys’ picture and see who was wearing bright orange pants?” someone suggested. The whole class rushed over to the boys’ picture, and there I was, proudly showing off my bright orange pants.

For the next week, I hid in my room in embarrassment. I considered changing my name, going into the witness protection program, or running away to join the circus. In the end, I decided to just hope that everybody would forget the picture and move on. Looking back, I guess everybody did but me.

Honeymoon Horror Story

December 8, 2019 by 17 Comments

There is a lot of pressure on an engaged couple to choose a nice place to spend their honeymoon. I (Mr. Handsome) have been told that the groom usually makes the plans, presumably because the bride is busy with the all-consuming task of planning a wedding. Ellie really enjoys planning trips, so she offered to organize our honeymoon. I think she also secretly knew that if she left the task to me, our trip would likely end up in disarray. Either that or we would “accidentally” find ourselves on a five-day fishing excursion. Just kidding. Even I don’t enjoy fishing enough to put Ellie through that on her honeymoon.

So to give credit where credit is due, I must admit that my wife put together our romantic getaway to Grand Cayman. I wanted to be of some assistance, so I told her I would find accommodations for the night of the wedding.

Hoping to impress my wife of exactly six hours, I chose a sweet little bed and breakfast that was close enough to our wedding location that we wouldn’t have a terribly long drive, but far enough that we wouldn’t have to worry about pranksters. The website advertised it as a “quaint, historic home” with a “seven course breakfast.” Perfect, I thought.

By the time we arrived, it was about 11:00pm. If by “quaint, historic home” the owners meant “dilapidated haunted house,” they were right on the money. Perhaps the description was wishful thinking. The bed and breakfast was complete with turrets, eerie archways, and windows that looked like frowning eyes staring at you. The only light was a small lantern hanging above the entryway, so we warily climbed the stairs and knocked. An elderly lady opened the door, squinted, and informed us that the guest entrance was around back. We made our way through the dark and somehow managed to locate the door.

We were greeted by the same woman, who had found an apron and mustered up a smile since we had last seen her. She welcomed us and showed us to our room.

“Don’t forget, breakfast starts at 7:00am sharp,” she announced.

“Umm, this is our wedding night, and we are exhausted from a busy day,” I told her gently. “Do you think we could come down a little later?”

“Certainly,” she replied, “lets plan on 7:15.” It wasn’t the type of response that invited a counter offer.

Thankful for the generous extra 15 minutes, we commenced to inspecting our room. It turns out that all the rooms had themes. With a collection of very interesting rag dolls (all with beady little eyes) lining the dressers and walls, my guess is that the honeymoon suite was the “demon-possessed doll room.” And I’m not talking about those sweet Precious Moments figurines. I’m talking about the dolls in horror movies that come alive after dark.

We surprisingly survived the night without being attacked, only to be woken at 6:30am by the breakfast bell. We pulled ourselves out of bed, wiped the sleep out of our eyes, and made our way to breakfast. “I am sure that this seven-course breakfast will be worth the lack of sleep,” I told Ellie, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

Well the first course of the seven-course breakfast was peas. I kid you not, it was literally green vegetables. The second course was Kix cereal. “Good to start the day off with a kick,” our host stated. The third course was Life cereal, so our day could be “full of life.” The fourth course was a banana, and it was pretty small at that.

The fifth course was toast that was somehow both burnt and soggy. The jelly was good, which helped. The sixth course was a glass of milk or orange juice, but not both, and the final course was a bowl of scrambled eggs. Or maybe I should say scrambled egg–there definitely was only one per person. In the end, our seven-course breakfast contained less food than the average Super 8 continental breakfast.

There was another couple staying there, and during breakfast we tried to make conversation. It’s a tad awkward meeting someone for the first time on the morning after your wedding and trying to strike up a conversation. Thankfully they didn’t ask us if we had slept well.

Later that day, we found ourselves at my parents’ house for lunch. (That’s a long story, but I assure you that it wasn’t in the plans.) It ended up being a meal full of laughs, as we swapped stories with my sister and her husband, who had apparently stayed at the same bed and breakfast the night of their wedding two years earlier. They remembered the peas and demon-possessed dolls very well.

About a month later, we read in the newspaper that the bed and breakfast was going out of business. Can’t imagine why. They ended up converting it into a Halloween haunted house, which has apparently been doing marvelously.

Baby’s 1st Camping Trip: Success or Disaster?

October 28, 2019 by 56 Comments

Mr. Handsome wrote a post about the family campout we took in September…

I have been trying to come up with words to adequately describe our first camping trip with Little Buddy. You could say it was a “smashing” success, if by “smashing” you mean that the air mattress deflated and we were smashed down on the hard, rocky ground for the night. It was certainly not a “full- blown” success.

It was a “rousing” success if you mean we were “roused and awakened” every hour or so by the crying of Little Buddy, who was not used to sleeping in a tent. You could say it was a “big hit” if you are describing what my wife wanted to do to me when she realized I had forgotten my pillow and had decided to use hers.

Perhaps a better way to describe it would be a “brilliant success,” if you are quoting my wife, who asked in the middle of a sleepless night “whose brilliant idea it was to try to go camping with an eight-month-old-baby.” It was an “extraordinary” success if you are describing how extraordinarily difficult it was to start the campfire using the soggy wet wood we had brought from home.

I suppose we all had a “big” time if you are describing the size of the mosquitoes that chose to reside in our humble tent after we accidentally left the tent flap open. I’ll take the blame for that one.

It was a “runaway success” when our campmates’ pet dog escaped into the woods and we spent an hour pursuing the young rascal. It was an “unqualified” success if you are describing how the most unqualified individual (yours truly) tried to cook breakfast and burned all the bacon.

“Overwhelming” success is a good word to use if you are describing the feeling we felt while trying to pack up the huge mess of a campsite–after enjoying our meal of burnt bacon. You could say it was an “astonishing” success if you are describing the look on Ellie’s face when, after we got home and unpacked, I said, “That was a lot of fun. We should do it again next weekend.”

Mr. Handsome’s Cow Paintings

October 11, 2019 by 8 Comments

Mr. Handsome the artist continues to spend a good portion of his spare time painting. Little Buddy loves watching Daddy work. When he was a newborn, we would lay him on a blanket right beside the easel so he could watch Daddy create his artwork. At four months old, we started putting him in a sit-me-up seat. Now, he only tolerates the seat for small amounts of time because he wants to be on the move, but he still enjoys watching Daddy paint, as long as Mommy is there to make sure he doesn’t get into anything in the studio.

Mr. Handsome spent hours on these two original cow paintings. One was for an art show, and the other was for a charity auction. We were both a little nervous at the auction because the first dozen items were beautifully decorated cakes, followed by a host of other random items and experiences. The cow was the very last item, and some of the guests had already left. We were relieved when several people put their paddles up to bid on it.

More Tools = More Manliness

June 25, 2019 by 21 Comments

This post is brought to you by Mr. Handsome.

Throughout history, men have sought to answer the question “What does it mean to be a man?” They have fought battles, slain dragons, searched for treasure, and built castles. All to prove that they are manly men. In a society of desk jobs and padded office chairs, it can be more difficult to determine what it means to be a manly man. I have developed a simple answer: Just count how many tools he has.

The following is a story illustrating how a typical man shows his masculinity while talking about tools.

Last summer while we were packing our moving truck, I realized that we needed something to tie the boxes down. My friend stated in his deep manly voice, “I always carry premium industrial grade ratchet tie down straps in the back of my truck. Surely you have some of those?” Unfortunately I did not have any tie down straps, industrial grade or otherwise, but I wasn’t going to admit that, so I improvised. “Ummm of course,” I gulped. “It just so happens that they are in my other car, which is currently in the shop getting an oil change.”

“You take your car to the shop to change the oil?” He asked incredulously. “It only takes a wrench and a drip bucket to do it yourself. Surely you have those tools?”

“Well yes I have those,” I replied, rolling my eyes for emphasis. “It’s just that I tweaked my back last weekend riding bucking broncos and didn’t want to re-aggravate it while crawling under my car.”…

NYC Themed Art

June 18, 2019 by 27 Comments

On Saturday, I told you all that we had just sent a bunch of Mr. Handsome’s paintings to a venue in New York City. Several of you asked to see the paintings that we sent. Below are pictures of the New York City themed art that my husband created with the venue in mind. We also sent a variety of other paintings, including musical instruments, a cow, and a few abstracts.

My favorite is the one at the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. If you enjoy history as much as I do, you have probably seen old photos of the bridge. I suggested that my husband create a painting that looks like a vintage photograph, and I think he accomplished that beautifully. The second painting is of the full Manhattan skyline, with the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge on either ends. The third painting is the Empire State Building, and the fourth is a smaller skyline with the bridge.

Sending Paintings to NYC

June 15, 2019 by 28 Comments

Most of you know that Mr. Handsome makes oil and acrylic paintings as a hobby. We have enjoyed traveling around the Nashville area to different art shows and town festivals to sell his works of art. He has also displayed his paintings at coffee shops and other venues across the city. He started with landscapes and has since branched out to a variety of other subjects, including musical instruments, ships, abstract paintings, animals, and skylines. And for Christmas, he painted a portrait of me.

For the past couple months, he has been working on paintings to display at a venue in New York City. After many nights spent burning the midnight oil, he finished yesterday. This afternoon, we packaged the paintings up into three large boxes and dropped them off at UPS. It was kind of bittersweet to say goodbye to two dozen of his best paintings, but we are hopeful that some will sell. And it’s exciting to be able to say that he displayed his art in New York City. Little Buddy enjoyed laying on a blanket on the floor while daddy did many of the paintings.

Mr. Handsome’s Gift to Me

April 1, 2019 by 32 Comments

It’s already April, but I just realized that I never showed you the Christmas present that Mr. Handsome gave me. He’s so good at coming up with thoughtful gift ideas. Several times since we have been married, I have accidentally found out about a gift before Mr. Handsome gave it to me (more on that another time), but this one was a complete surprised. What do you think?

I admit that I cried when Mr. Handsome gave me this portrait of myself, along with a sweet note saying that he wanted to paint what he considers to be the most beautiful sight. I have to laugh, though, because the picture is currently hanging on our wall next to the crazy chicken that he painted last week.