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Thankful Thursday #80: beyond white light

Posted on August 9, 2012 by Veronica

(10 Points if you can name that album!)

It’s been a while since the (in?)famous Dennis Miller wrote a guest post for me.  But truly, it is hard to come up with so many Thankful Thursdays, and I begged his help this week. He graciously agreed to help me out.  Please welcome my hubby back!

***

White light, when seen through a prism, shows that it is really made up of the entire visible color spectrum.

This proves to me that even plain things, when looked at differently, can show great beauty.

It’s not white light that I’m thankful for, it’s the ability to see what is more.

Anyone who has had a baby knows theirs is the cutest, smartest baby in the world. Pet owners love and adore their pets, even when they have chewed up all their owner’s shoes.

I laughed out loud reading this...

It’s the mind’s ability to see more than meets the eye that makes life much more fun.

Pinned Image

Imagination plays a part of this too. Instead of just going to the store with your family or wife, maybe you are with a small elite commando unit sent out by special order to obtain Miracle Whip and return it to base. You are not waiting on the mail man but waiting for agent MM to make a drop that contains vital intel of national importance.

Obviously I have gone from the objective (white light into colored) to the subjective with the last examples but I believe we mainly live in a subjective state.

So it is to you, oh reader of this mighty blog, (see I’m not just writing a blog but I’m William Shakespeare’s retarded cousin, the family calls me Binkie, penning a new missive of much importance)…what ordinary thing may you perceive today that has hidden beauty?

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Thankful Thursdays #72: oh no he didn’t

Posted on April 26, 2012 by Veronica

If Dennis had written today’s post, it would have been called “Thankful Thursdays #72: nose hairs.”

Every week I brainstorm with Dennis about what my Thankful Thursday should center around.  This week, he said, “One thing you’re probably thankful for, but not aware of, is your nose hairs.”

I lost it.  I think I laughed for a whole minute straight, doubled over, even while he continued on to explain his point.

“I mean, think about it.  They’re with you twenty-four hours a day and they’re always working for you, doing what they need to do.  But pretty much the only time we notice them is when a booger gets stuck in them.  They’re basically the unsung heroes of the facial orifices.”

Seriously, I could write another tribute of thankfulness for my husband based on how many times a day he makes me laugh.  But he has a point.  I mean, without nose hairs, who knows what kind of foreign objects we’d be sucking back into our lungs.  Nose hairs (OK, at this point, I’m starting to cringe whenever I say “nose hairs.”  Once is funny, but now it feels grody-lol.) trap dirt, viruses, bacteria and toxins until we blow them out, sneeze, or swallow.

Wow, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like my blog was going this wrong before.  I’m really sicking myself out! lol

But I think you get the point.  NH’s (there, that sounds much better), just like every part of our bodies, serve a very necessary and important purpose.  People with not enough NH are three times more likely to suffer from asthma!  (Men, you can use that as an excuse when anyone gets onto you about your excessive NH.  It’s saving you from buying an inhaler.)  So let’s sing some praises to our nose hairs today, shall we?

And since we are completely crazy (as if you needed any further proof after reading this blog), we made two different songs to pay tribute to our lovely nose hairs.  Enjoy!

 

 

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Black Bean & Butternut Squash Burritos

Posted on March 30, 2012 by Veronica

Really, I don’t know what to tell you about these burritos.  They are fabulous.  And that sums it up.  Really, truly, seriously the best burritos I’ve ever made or eaten.  I have nothing else to tell you except that Dennis is losing his job.

WHAT?

Yeah, I know.  What a way to drop a bomb.  I guess I’m not good at breaking things gently.  Or very good at segues, apparently.  It’s something we’ve known about for several weeks and it’s something I’ve wanted to share, but how do you fit in personal information like that on a blog that usually only features recipes and reasons for thanksgiving?  So I figured I’d just fit it in where I could.

Burritos and unemployment.  Sure, it fits. :)

They no longer need him in the position he fills at his current job, and rather than move to a different department and take a pay cut and a position that would make him miserable, he accepted the soon-to-come lay-off.  He applied for a job with the state as a 911 emergency call-taker, which would be a pay raise for him, and something he would find fulfilling and rewarding.  He passed both his tests for the position with flying colors, and is scheduled for a “job information” session next week.  We’re not sure what that exactly means, but we think it’s a good sign that they’ve asked him to come back.

When our preacher says a prayer, many times he has thanked God for the doors he opens, and the doors he closes.  It is a good reminder to stay thankful not only for the good that God provides, but for things we perceive as bad as well.  In this case, the closed door may very well lead to a better future for us.

It is easy to become complacent when you can make ends meet, so it can be good to be forced out of your comfort zone to reach a little higher for  something that will allow you to provide better for your family.  In addition to some house repairs, I could really use a new car, because I’m not sure Baby will last much longer. (You can witness Baby in all her hooptie glory, and me in my Valley-girl glory, in this video.)  So this 911 job would be a step in a better direction for us!  We are hopeful, but we know that whatever may come, God will provide.

As for the burritos, really, there’s nothing else for me to say.  Best burritos ever.  I really hope you try them!

Black Bean & Butternut Squash Burritos

Roasting the squash and cooking the rice makes this a long process for a lunch. I recommend preparing these two things in advance, so that when you’re ready for lunch, you only have to proceed as the recipe directs: heat and eat!

Printable recipe
Printable recipe with picture

1 tablespoon canola oil
1 cup chopped onion
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 red pepper, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
2 teaspoons ground cumin, or to taste
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, or to taste
1 (15 oz) can black beans (about 1.5-2 cups cooked), drained and rinsed
1 1/2 cups cooked brown rice
1/2 of a medium butternut squash, peeled, cubed, & roasted*
1 cup (4 oz) shredded cheddar cheese
4 large/extra-large flour tortillas

Toppings of choice: avocado, salsa, sour cream, spinach/lettuce, cilantro, etc

In a large skillet over medium-low heat, add oil, onion, and minced garlic. Sauté for about 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the salt and seasonings and stir well. Add chopped red pepper, black beans, and cooked rice and sauté for another 10 minutes on low. Add the roasted butternut squash to the skillet and stir well.  You can mash the squash with a fork if some pieces are too large. Add the cheese and heat another couple minutes.

Scoop bean filling onto tortillas along with desired toppings. Wrap and serve. Leftover filling can be reheated the next day for lunch in a wrap or as a salad topper.

*To roast the squash, preheat oven to 425F and line a rimmed baking sheet with tinfoil. Drizzle olive oil on squash and give a shake of salt and pepper. Coat with hands. Roast chopped butternut squash for 30-45 minutes (depending on the size of your cubes), or until tender.  I highly recommend using the second half of your butternut squash in Jenna’s Split Pea Soup. It is fantastic!

Recipe source: tweaked from Oh She Glows

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Thankful Thursdays #67: ding dong, the glasses are dead!

Posted on March 15, 2012 by Veronica

Happy happy, joy joy!  I never thought the day would come when I would be thankful for the death and destruction of Den’s glasses.  I often threatened to burn them, to run over them, to toss them in the trash, but alas I couldn’t do that to my hubby, who was hopelessly devoted to them.  He was bound and determined, it seemed, to keep them for all eternity.  But blessedly, the day has finally come when they snapped under the pressure of being the ugliest, oldest pair of glasses on the planet.  I think the shame of their ugliness led them to commit suicide.

Dennis bought these glasses in 1985, people.  I was five years old when he bought them!!  Who keeps a pair of glasses that long?  They turned gangrenous the way cheap metal does, and there is some really horrid-looking stuff seemingly growing beneath the nose piece. BLARF.

I can’t believe I even touched these. *shudder*

I feel the urge to soak my hands in bleach just looking at this photo.

By the way, on a total random note, but sort of related since I’m thinking of my poor hand, check out the wicked manicure I did for St. Patrick’s Day:

ANYWAY.  Although this style of glasses actually came back into fashion recently (seriously, who keeps something so long that it goes in and out of fashion before you get rid of it???), they were never a good look for him.

To prove my point, I submit exhibit A, B & C:

Not. a. good. look.

In contrast, here is Dennis wearing the glasses that I helped him pick out:

Much better.

The old glasses have made me gag since the first time he put them on in front of me.  He doesn’t wear his glasses all the time (though he’s supposed to), only for driving, so the first time we went for a ride together, despite not knowing him very well, I laughed out loud.

“What us UP with your glasses?!  They make you look like a beefcake.”

Unbeknownst to me, beefcake actually refers to a hot semi-nude male, which Dennis took great delight in telling me.

Only momentarily flustered, I countered, “OK, well, it makes you the opposite of a beefcake, then.  Like a beefy jock, and not the beefcake kind, that is illiterate and maybe was dropped on his head as a kid…and uses steroids that makes him look fluffy instead of defined.  Those glasses totally take away your definition.  They are so. wrong.”

Yes, I was harsh, but need I remind you how bad his glasses were???

Dennis never had any great rebuttals to my tirades, which he was exposed to many times over the years as my hatred of the glasses grew, as did the many ways I plotted to destroy them if he refused to throw them away, but he always found them hilarious.  (Honestly, I would have stopped if it hurt his feelings, but I did it mostly for the satisfaction of making him laugh.)

My hatred for his beloved glasses became a running joke between us, to the point that when we witnessed the ear piece fall off when he tried to put them on before an errand, we both laughed uproariously.  Dennis asked if I was going to burn them the next time we went camping, a scenario I had vocally fantasized about on numerous occasions, but I told him no.  They had suffered enough.  They deserved to rest in peace.

Fare thee well, my tenacious gangrenous foes.  Enjoy your afterlife in the dump.

Amen and amen.

P.S. Can you tell what kind of recipe I’ll be sharing on Friday? :)

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Dennis’ Blog Take-Over #3: Using Time Travel to Accomplish New Year’s Resolutions

Posted on January 24, 2012 by Veronica

I have been posting my husband’s blogs without any introductions from me, but I’m going to butt in here just to say hi because I miss you guys!  And to apologize that this one doesn’t flow very well because I’m too tired to edit it further (yes, I have been editing Dennis’ blogs, and you would thank me if you could see the messes he hands me! But I AM appreciative of his help and don’t complain…at least not much-haha!), plus he is sleeping, and I feel like I can’t make too many changes without his input or it will be my blog and not his.  Thank you for putting up with Dennis in my absence.  Despite the title, he has a serious one for you today, if you can believe it, so you’ll get to see another aspect of him before I kick him off my blog and return next week.  I can’t wait!  :D

XOXO,

V

P.S. If anyone is interested in a monthly feature from Dennis, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.

*******

As I write this, 20 days have passed since the New Year.  When you read this, 23 or 24 days will have passed.  In a way, that makes you a time traveler.  You are able to view a past event as though it is happening right now.

Time is an interesting subject.  For this blog, we are going to consider that for most of us, time is really arbitrary.

Quick!  What is your age?

Did you know you have at least three different answers to that question?  They are:  chronological, mental and physical.  What I always find interesting is people mainly focus on chronological age, but that is the only one you can’t do anything about.  You were born when you were born, and each second takes you closer and closer to the other extreme.  You can change your physical age by exercise, or the lack of it, and by what you eat.  Mental age can be decreased by too much television, or just a general lack of mental stimulation (like reading something I write).

I find birthdays interesting, because as far as I can tell, I really get just one day older.  People have asked me, “What does it feel like to be 44?”  And honestly, I feel one day older.

Every 365 days the Earth goes around the sun.  On day 1 most people decide NOW is the time to take charge of my life. This is THE year I’m going to lose that extra weight!  I shall master squid juggling by this time next year!

At the dawn of a new year, it seems like it can be done this time.  You are more determined, and with a stronger will.  You tell your friends, you write it down, even post it on the internet.  You make your goals, but to accomplish them, you have to realize that it’s a step by step, moment to moment decision and action.

Think of it this way.

You are sitting on your couch.  You want to turn the TV on. Your hand travels from where it is, to the remote, hand picks up remote, finger or thumb presses the “on” button.  That was four basic actions to get a simple result, and we could have thrown in hand-eye coördination, tactile sense, and a host of other things needed to perform the above task.

But the most important thing is this.  There had to be a steady stream of consciousness to make it happen.  If you were distracted at any time during the event, like if a giant purple sock suddenly appeared in front of you and launched in an explanation of the importance of the human knee cap, then the cycle of action would be broken and the TV would not have been turned on.

What I’m saying is this.  You have got to make moment to moment decisions to get to your goals.  You have to think beyond the “here and now.”  You’ve got be a time traveler.  If you are in your car, feeling like, “Hey, I really need ice cream,” the “needing ice cream” is a here and now thing.  What you have got to do is think ahead of that.  Will the ice cream make you feel better or worse one half hour from now?  Or will you be able to say a week from now, “I have not had any fattening foods in a week, and I feel great.”

You can practice keeping a stream of consciousness during the day.  When doing dishes, try just doing them for a while, don’t think of anything else but the dishes maybe for just one plate. What you will find is your mind will wander off.

Making resolutions is easy.  But the mind does tend to wander.  The best thing you can do is know that you have to make those resolutions again, again and again in order to make them happen.

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Dennis’ Blog Take-over #2: Boiled Salted Water

Posted on January 10, 2012 by Veronica

It was a cold and rainy day at the cemetery.
Gray black clouds blocked the sunlight and seemed to cast a shadow over our hearts.
As the coffin lowered the remains of my great-grandmother into the ground, my eyes locked with my sister’s across the grave.
It was just a moment, but that moment spoke volumes.
Now that great-grandmother was dead, the pact had ended.
Now could the family secret be told at last.
Now could the world know the recipe that is…
Boiled Salted Water!

***

The tale of Boiled Salted Water is one of great adventure and love. It began centuries ago, in the deserts of Arabia.  There lived a beautiful woman named Greta who served boiled water. Even though the others in her clan said it was the best thing they had ever tasted, she knew it could be better.

A few sand dunes away lived a man named Ali who had discovered a lump of salt in his youth while digging in the ground. One day, his pet squid went missing, and as he was searching for the beloved pet, he smelled something delicious wafting from a nearby tent.

He entered Greta’s tent and inquired about what she was cooking. She gladly showed the young handsome man her pot of boiling water, confiding that it still lacked something. He quickly showed her his lump of salt, and when they added it to the water, Greta knew that she had found the missing ingredient to her recipe and her heart.

Greta and Ali married and had many children. The recipe was passed down from son to son and daughter to daughter, staying in Arabia until one daughter married a squid juggler from Russia. His name was Ivan Onger Valisky the VII, sixth in the line of the house of Earlstoke but his friends called him “Biddy.”

Biddy and his wife lived in a small city in Siberia. They lived happily there many years, but tragedy struck when a small group of over-zealous Cossacks became convinced that with the salted water, they could build an invincible army. They stormed the young couple’s house but Ivan was able to fight them off using his deadly squid juggling skills.

After that, they knew that this recipe must be kept secret, and made  the pact that only family members may know the recipe, and decided to move to America.

The family grew and lived in harmony until approximately 12 June 1857 at 1:03 AM. It was then that my great, great-uncle Henry suggested that sea salt might be a good type of salt to use. This caused a massive argument, at the apex of which my great, great aunt Melva hurled a curse at Henry, “May all your squids develop dandruff!”

The resulting schism lasted seven years. Finally, it was decided many types of salts could be used in the recipe.

But the secrecy pact was still in force. Even when Ip Man Sao, the famous pork rind merchant of Hunan, China, offered my great-grandmother an ancient squid once owned by Emperor Wu, she refused to share the recipe.

The offer from Ip Man did make her consider that maybe it was time for the recipe to be released to the rest of the world. She asked that it be done after she had left this earth.

And this is why I can now post these most ancient and secret instructions for:

BOILED SALTED WATER

Ancient traditional recipe:

Take pot
Put in water
Set pot on strong fire.
Watch carefully with mighty eye.
When first three bubbles appear add salt.
Let boil for five chirps of the cricket.
Let cool for five to seven chirps of the cricket.
Eat.

Modern recipe with variations:

Water
Saucepan
Salt (sea salt, iodized or Earth)

Fill saucepan to desired level and set on high heat.
Salt can be added before or during the boiling cycle. (Uncle Fizbot likes to add it after it’s done boiling, but no one else in family likes it that way.)
Let boil for two and a half to three minutes.
Serve hot, warm, cool or even chilled (a favorite in the South).

I leave you with an old family blessing,
“May your squids never know the sorrow of a cold, hard bed, with only a rock for a pillow.”

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Dennis’ Blog Take-over #1: Of Veronica, and an introduction to my mind

Posted on January 4, 2012 by Veronica

I would like to thank my wife for letting me step in and blog a bit during her hiatus.  Since Veronica wrote a generous tribute to me several weeks ago, I thought I would counter with my perspective on her for my first blog.

Veronica was born some time before now on the planet Terra. She is approximately 64 inches tall and is an average human for the most part.

Being a female, she has a potential lung capacity of 4,200 ml of air. I will not venture to state whether she uses her total lung capacity each time she breathes, for it is well known that the amount of oxygen that enters the body depends on how it is taken in.

But, upper chest or diaphragm breathing aside, let me say that she can sing like no one’s business.

Now, you may have thought Ip Man Sao of the Hunan Province in China had a good business selling pork rinds by the Yellow River, but let me tell you, his business doesn’t come close to my wife’s ability to sing.

Here is my rendition of what Ip Man looks like.

Ip Man Sao has a very interesting story. He was found as a baby in a basket on Sue Shing Mao’s front door step. She took the child in and raised him as if he was a third cousin on her great aunt’s side. His name means “some white kid that was left with me.” Though not Chinese himself, he was accepted by them.

When I was younger (maybe 9 or 7), I remember saying, “I’m never going to get married.” My mother heard this statement and said, “That’s what your uncle Robert said too.” (Note: if I found out when my uncle Robert got married then subtracted three years from the Mayan calendar and added 3.14159 (pi) I could get a rough estimate of the age I was when I uttered this statement.) But I was determined to make my decree stick.

I sometimes wonder if God had a hand in my shunning of marriage so early in life. I didn’t chase women or date (the few times I did was a disaster). In a way was ‘innocent” when I met Veronica. I didn’t have a whole lot of emotional baggage from previous relationships or preconceived ideas about how things should work. So when I started dating her I could just “be” with her.

Veronica is great in all the ways I’m not. She really does complete me. She has a heart for other people and cares about what they think and remembers their birthdays, whereas I am barely aware of the other human life forms around me. Veronica understands the importance of family and reaching out to others. She’s a perfectionist (she’s done a whole blog about this here on our different views on her “it has to be perfect” versus my “Meh, it’s not completely lopsided or falling down – good enough,” so I won’t go into that here), which balances my tolerance for imperfection.

I like the way she sees me. She has often said that I could have ended up with anybody and would have had a good relationship, but I know that she really is the only one for me.

I shot this video of Veronica singing while cleaning the bathroom yesterday. This highlights her singing abilities, though I don’t like editing videos so I included the whole thing and she doesn’t really start singing until about a minute in.

• A technical note: The bathroom was chosen as the ideal environment for the recording because it has an aspect ratio of reverberation of 9:1. The recommended way to listen to this recording is to cup your left hand behind your right ear and stick your right index finger up your left nostril. This will bring the beautiful acoustics of our bathroom to you in vivid aural majesty.

Possible future blogs from Dennis Miller:

  • Boiled Salted Water
  • Famous Russian Squid Jugglers
  • Things I found in my shoe
  • Warp Tour of Martial Arts
  • EPIC BLOG OF LEGEND!!!!

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Thankful Thursdays #56: taking time to slow dance

Posted on December 22, 2011 by Veronica

Several weeks ago, I gave a list of my top ten thanksgivings. Week by week, I’m taking on each thanksgiving and expounding upon it, starting with God, then my husband. This should have been the week I told you all about my fur baby, Jessie, and why I’m so thankful for her, but I’m going to interrupt the regularly scheduled programming with something unplanned.  Since I completed my year-long resolution to find something to be thankful for every day and report those thanksgivings weekly, I’m going to take advantage of the freedom I now have with Thankful Thursdays and give you something that wasn’t on the “schedule,” and hopefully I’ll see you back next week for Jessie’s time in the spotlight!

http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/162692_10150097836811480_541706479_7794490_7123101_n.jpg

Slow Dance

by David L. Weatherford

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round,
or listened to rain slapping the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight,
or gazed at the sun fading into the night?

You better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
time is short, the music won’t last.

Do you run through each day on the fly,
when you ask “How are you?”, do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?

You better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
time is short, the music won’t last.

Ever told your child, we’ll do it tomorrow,
and in your haste, not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, let a friendship die,
’cause you never had time to call and say hi?

You better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
time is short, the music won’t last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere,
you miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,
it’s like an unopened gift thrown away.

Life isn’t a race, so take it slower,
hear the music before your song is over.

When I read this poem, I thought about how I’m always in a hurry to get where I’m going and deplore the ride.  I hate driving, so Dennis always drives if we’re going together, and he then drives me crazy by observing everything around him instead of watching the road and going the speed limit.  In an on-going battle with myself to be a better wife, I try to hold my tongue, but I’m still on edge, wishing he’d just hurry up and drive and stop reading the signs or pointing out things he sees along the way.

The poem is right-on.  Life is so short, why am I in such a hurry that I can’t enjoy every part of the ride?

So last night, when we were both home together, which is a rare and joyful thing, and we were both getting ready to take Jessie for a walk, Dennis happened to push “play” on the CD that was in the stereo.  I had put in Shania Twain’s Come on Over CD in earlier to find a song on it for a specific reason.  I had meant to remove the CD and forgot, so when I heard Shania blasting from the speakers, I knew this was the perfect time to enact my plan that the “Slow Dance” poem inspired, even if Dennis was half-clothed and Jessie was waiting for her walk.

I skipped the track to “From This Moment On” and joined him in the office, where he was sitting and ready to slip on his shoes.  I took his hands and brought him to stand in front of me.  He was smiling at me but I could tell he was wondering what I was up to.  “This was the first song we were supposed to dance to as husband and wife, remember?” I asked.  We had both loved the song, but forgot the CD and our DJ ended up choosing a different song for us (Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden).  We had never gotten the opportunity to dance to the song we had picked out.

Dennis laughed, and we embraced, and made a slow circle in the cramped & messy office as Shania Twain and Bryan White crooned in beautiful harmony.  We stepped on each others feet, we laughed, we kissed, and we cried together, knowing how blessed we are to have each other.

It was probably the most romantic thing we’ve ever done, and I’m so glad I took the time to slow dance with my husband to that song for the first time in our lives, eleven years after we married.  Though this speeding through life thing has become pretty engrained in me, I’m thankful for the poem that inspired me to slow down and take time to slow dance, and hope that I will keep it in mind next time Dennis almost swerves off the road while pointing out a hawk sitting on a fence post. :)

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Thankful Thursdays #55: true romance

Posted on December 15, 2011 by Veronica

Last week, I embarked on a new adventure in my Thankful Thursdays feature by taking the first of my top ten thanksgivings, and fleshing it out a little by sharing my testimony.  Continuing the adventure, I’m now moving on to the second thanksgiving on my list:

2. My wonderful, most perfect husband. I always tell him he is perfect to me, because although he’s obviously not literally perfect, he is everything I need him to be and honestly, I don’t think there is anyone in the world I could love as much. I feel that I have been blessed far beyond what I deserve, and I’m so thankful for it. He completes me.

I was corrupted by romance novels at the tender age of twelve.  (Is that a funny way to start telling you why I’m so thankful for Dennis?  Bear with me! lol)  My Dad has always had a hobby of buying and selling, well, pretty much everything, and I found a bookshelf lined with romance novels in our basement that he had been selling at the flea market.  I snuck them away one at a time, devouring them and wondering if I’d ever find a man as wonderful as the ones in the novels.  (I was corrupted, I tell you!)  They captivated me because they depicted such colorful and passionate people, and relationships (and details I really didn’t need to be reading!) that were so much different than the ones I observed in real life.

The men and women were gorgeous, of course.  Physically perfect.  The men were tall and strong, bold, brave, always stepping forward to defend or rescue their woman when necessary (which was alarmingly often), serious, brooding, forceful in a take-charge sort of way, and passionate.  Without realizing it, I came to believe that these men and these relationships were normal and what everyone had (except my parents, who I always knew weren’t normal-lol).  I decided I had to have this too.

Dennis with his cousin Mike and friend Coz

The first time I laid eye on Dennis, I was seventeen years old (he was 30, total cradle-robber! haha) and had just started taking a class called “Personal Efficiency” at the Church of Scientology.  Dennis was on staff as the Promotions I/C (in-charge) at the time, and we passed each other one day while I was exiting the church to go to the classroom behind it, and he was passing me to go into the door I had exited.  I smiled at him as I walked down the stairs to go to the classroom, trying not to let my eyes devour him and reveal how cute I thought he was, and then looked back over my shoulder to check out his butt as he ascended the stairs and I remember being impressed with what I saw.  It was pretty much lust at first sight for me! LOL!

Dennis and his friend Jack, the one who just got baptized!

At this point, I had never had a boyfriend, never been kissed by anyone other than my cousin when we were six years old, and was utterly convinced that I was going to die an old maid.  I was desperate, and thus began a relationship with someone who was very ill-suited to me (picture a gothic emo dude that cries to Phantom of the Opera while screaming his ex-girlfriend’s name), simply because he asked me on a date.  I was absolutely miserable in the relationship but was unsuccessful in my feeble attempts at breaking up.

Dennis, front left, with his band, Zencraft in 1992

Dennis worked with my boyfriend, let’s call him Dragon, and he started coming over for Dragon’s “Mage” fests.  Mage is a role-playing game like Dungeons and Dragons, and neither Dennis nor I was very much into it (OK, so I wasn’t into it AT ALL), so we very innocently started hanging out together instead of at the Mage parties, with no ulterior motive other than escaping Dragon’s crowd.  Dragon trusted Dennis and thought nothing of it when Dennis whisked me off to the movies every week.

Although the only time we had to talk was during the ride to and from the theater, I was absolutely thrilled and astounded that communication between a man and a woman could be so easy.  So relaxed and comfortable.  Dennis didn’t make me feel like I was an idiot, he actually considered what I said, and didn’t judge me.  I found myself able to speak my mind rather than keeping quiet for fear of sounding stupid, as I did with Dragon.  The exchange of ideas and thoughts was free and effortless, and just so…wonderful.

Dennis and I doing target practice (at my foot, apparently) in his parents' backyard, 1998. I want to make lots of excuses for this horrible photo, but I'll let it be. :)

After only a few weeks, my growing affection for Dennis, and the realization of how lacking my current relationship was, gave me the the strength I needed to end things with Dragon for good.  But what I got with Dennis wasn’t exactly the story-book romance I had always thought I wanted.

Dennis took me to my senior prom, 1999

Let me tell you, if you have been corrupted by romance novels like I was, please do not let the men in them be your standard for potential suitors!  If I had done that, I would never have married the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.  Dennis is strong, sure.  He has practiced martial arts since high school (check out his fab nunchuk skills–promise I didn’t speed it up–and part of his staff form in this video).  He also plays the guitar, so he’s got the sexy musician thing going for him too.  :)  He’s intelligent, witty, and kind.  But Dennis isn’t particularly tall, and although I find him very attractive, he’s not one of the tall-dark-and-handsome super-studs that parade through romance novels.  He’s easy-going and probably wouldn’t recognize if I ever needed to be defended or rescued until I’d already been slaughtered.  He’s a complete and utter goofball (you’ll also see evidence of that in the video), he snores to beat the band, is missing a tooth, tries to kill us every time he gets behind the wheel (or so I’m convinced), he lifts his pinky off his spoon when he eats soup, looks like Shrek when he wakes up in the morning, and his hair is thinning and going gray.  Where was that in my romance novels?

What I found instead was something real, and with time I’ve come to realize it’s so much better than fiction.  You won’t find any man in the romance novels suffering from food poisoning and curled around a toilet when his woman calls him and asks if he can bring her insulin to work because she forgot it.  And him have to change his pants twice before leaving the house to bring it to her, because, well, you know, accidents happen when you’re suffering from food poisoning.  (For the record, I did not know he had food poisoning when I called him!  I would never have asked him if I had known.  But he came anyway!)  No man in the romance novels ever whined like a baby at the suggestion that he try a new food, or threw back the shower curtain and started doing kickboxing while wet to air dry, or tried to pee without using his hands so he wouldn’t have to wash them afterward, and ended up making a huge mess instead (that he most definitely cleaned up himself, thank you very much).  I had no warning for what I got with Dennis, but my journey with him has been a complete joy.

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Sometimes, as in the case of the Pioneer Woman (if you haven’t read her book, From Black Heels to Tractor Wheels, I recommend it highly!), real-life romance does live up to the novel and you get your beefy hunk that is so masculine that testosterone oozes from  his pores and your knees go weak if you even sense he might be within 500 miles.  Dennis and I did, and do even more so now, have a strong physical passion for each other, but it was never the driving force behind our love, like it seems to be in the romance novels.  It’s more like our souls are linked together and I need him in my life to be complete.  I crave him and relish our time together, no matter how it is spent.

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What I got with Dennis is true romance.  I really feel I took the most perfect man alive away from every other more eligible woman, but I don’t regret it one bit!  He’s all mine, and I’m keeping him!  :)  And I really hope that every person reading this feels the same way about their partner.  Or that, if not, you will follow Jesus’ advice that I have to repeat to myself when Dennis is about to push me over the edge with his antics (believe me, they’re not all funny or adorable): take the log out of my own eye so I can see the speck in his better to help remove it.  (Matthew 7:1-5)  So far, I’ve kept myself so busy pulling logs out of my eyes that I haven’t had much time to try to remove any specks from his, and I’m pretty sure those specks I’m seeing are just splinters left behind from the logs in my own eyes!

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So there you have it, the concise “story of us,” and why I feel such gratitude for the man in my life.  He proved to me that reality can be stranger (we’re an odd couple, all right!), and much better than fiction.  I thank God every day for him.

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Dennis putting the finishing touches on a coconut cake he made for me. :)

At The Flying Pig before this back room was turned into the massage room.

Paddle boating on the Arkansas river

Dennis was doing some Kung Fu moves with this bat'leth (Clingon weapon for you non-Trekkies like me) before I snapped the shot.

Us today! :)

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Life with Dennis Miller

Posted on July 26, 2011 by Veronica

Yes, it’s true.  I live with THE Dennis Miller.  No, not the famous comedian.  My husband!  He’s the only Dennis Miller that matters…at least to me.  He’s not famous, but he’s a comedian in his own right, and though I’m not familiar with the other Dennis Miller, I have to say I’m pretty partial to my husband’s brand of humor.

Last month I started writing down some of our exchanges and collecting pictures, etc., so I could compile them into a post for you guys, to give you a peek into what everyday life with Dennis is like (with his permission, of course).  I hope you enjoy and grow to love my man as much as I do.

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Scene: Me holding a cake I just finished decorating in front of the open refrigerator, realizing there’s nowhere to set it.
Me: “Can you make some room in the fridge for me?”
Dennis: “No matter how much room I make, I don’t think you’re going to fit in there.”

When I was studying for the test that determined my future with the post office, I asked Dennis to help me by coming up with some math problems I could practice with.  Five minutes later, he handed me this:

It helped more than real math problems would have, because it was a stressful time and the five-minute laugh session I got out of this paper was cathartic. :)

A friend called to tell Dennis he was moving his family to Wichita and asked where a good area was to buy a home. From my end, I heard Dennis say, “I don’t know…the east side has like…things. And the west side, has like, I don’t know, Mexicans I guess.” I nearly suffocated because I was laughing so hard I couldn’t take in air. He’s so crazy!

Background: I have a bad habit of throwing clothes on the floor or laying them on top of my dresser.
Scene: Me in the bedroom, calling into the nearby office.
Me: “I’m hanging up my clothes, Dennis! Aren’t you proud of me for putting my things away?”
Dennis: “Yes. Behold, this is my wife, with whom I am well pleased.”

Background: I’m always trying to get Dennis to try things he thinks he hates. He thinks he hates guacamole.
Scene: In the kitchen, sampling the guacamole I just made.
Me: “This is delicious! Do you want to try?”
Dennis (in a whiny voice): “But look, it’s all green, and I hate green things. Besides, I just filled up on lettuce.”

I asked Dennis to take a “before” picture of me for my henna post.  I told him “I only need my hair,” meaning he didn’t have to do a full-body shot.  This is what he took:

Scene: I’m making popcorn on the stove and Dennis is singing “Jimmy crack corn, and I don’t care,” while washing dishes, when suddenly he stops and turns to me.
Dennis: “If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, then why is there a song about it?”

Dennis and I have a late night tradition where he will chop up half a head of iceburg lettuce into a big bowl and drown it with homemade Italian dressing and we’ll share it in the office.  As we were devouring our shared salad one night, I speared a piece of lettuce that had no end.  I am the perfectionist and Dennis is the laid-back one.  When I chop lettuce, each piece is bite-sized.  When Dennis chops lettuce, some pieces are bite sized, and others, well….

Background: We dropped off my car at the shop earlier, just before they closed, knowing they wouldn’t get to it until after the July 4th holiday weekend.
Scene: In Den’s truck with him at the wheel, coming home from grocery shopping. It starts to rain.
Me: “Oh no! I can’t believe I left my windows down. What if they didn’t roll them up before closing the shop? I think we should go see if we need to roll them up.”
Dennis: “OK, but if they’ve already moved your car into the garage, I’m not breaking in so you can roll your windows up.”

Me: “I can’t believe it’s already 10:00! How did that happen?”
Dennis: “Well, it was 9:00. Then an hour passed.”

Background: I can’t stand long socks unless they are covered by long pants.  Therefore, I’ve bought Dennis numerous pairs of ankle socks for shorts weather.
Scene: Getting ready to go grocery shopping, headed to the door when I look down at Dennis’ feet. He is wearing shorts, tennis shoes, and his favorite kind of socks—the kind that go up to his knees.
Me: “Dennis! Look at your feet! I don’t think so, not happening.”
Dennis: (laughing): “I was going to roll them down.”
Oy!  Happens every time.

Me: “There’s something on your forehead.”  Dennis swipes at it ineffectually. I take over and then stare down in horror.  “It’s a booger!”

I may as well have kids.

We have a magnetic pad on the refrigerator (Thanks, Tina, for the fabulous cake pad!), and as we run out of things or realize we need something, we write it down so that I can include it on next week’s shopping list.  When I ask Dennis to add things, well, you can see some of the things I find on a regular basis:


Peanut butter really is our life source-we go through about a pound a week!

While taking a walk, Dennis and I were discussing how we, as a nation, sit too much. Then he went off on a typical-Dennis expostulation.

“The real problem with America is there are too many people that don’t sit,” he began. “A nation divided will fall. If there’s a disproportionate ratio of people exercising to people sitting all day, we will weaken as a nation. If I ever run for office, I’ll propose huge tax breaks for Americans who sit for at least twelve hours of each day. Then more people will sit to claim the tax breaks, and it will strengthen us as we become united. My slogan will be, ‘Sit, and be strong!’”

*sigh*  How can you not love someone this ridiculous?  Resistance is futile.

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