My parents arrived on Saturday to see Sage and spend a spring week in Park City. We did the Smith’s rotisserie chicken and some taters thing last night, watched Forbidden Kingdom and off they went into a blizzard to get back to the Westgate Hotel. The call came just minutes later.
Ryan took off (in my car 😉 ) with a shovel in hand to dig them out. My mom said she drove the rest of the way back to the Westgate at about 5mph and whiteknuckling all the way. Poor people. Coming from San Diego, they’re not used to winter driving. To them, this is ‘bad’ weather. To skiers, we’re in heaven. But, careful what you wish for.
I begged for “one more powder day” and I got two weeks of it! Ryan even took a vacation day from work to play in it last week. I’ve skied three of the best powder days of the season last week at Snowbird – even filmed at Brighton with Ritchie on Friday with waist deep swirling around me. Yeowza. The driveway had to be plowed three times in the last 24 hours. Need I go on? By Saturday, I was definitely ready to spend the day on the bunny hill with Sage and watch the pond skimmers.
Props to Ryan for being a major gentleman and rescuing my folks when they got their rental car stuck in a snowbank last night. The snow got deeper and deeper throughout the day and, instead of letting up like we thought, it got worse after dinner.Ryan was everyone’s hero. I stayed back to watch Sage and clean the kitchen. God how traditional does that sound? When it comes to digging and pushing out a car, he wins. I’m still not changing my mind about his assuming that my car is his (it’s not) or him wanting to lean on me before he tries to solve his own problems but I’m no longer angry.
Boy, was I fuming. I did wind up loaning him my car; he thanked me when he got home and I explained that it wasn’t the car but his eager willingness to inconvenience me without ever attempting to find a better option (like getting a ride from a co-worker). I told him all he needed to do was to show he had made at least SOME kind of effort. BIG BUTTON issue. I have enough to do in my life without having to deal with damage control of his issues too (at least not before he tries to take care of them himself). We’ll see what happens next time, of course, but today, he’s my dreamboat again.
Gotta hit the shower now.I took my parents snowmobiling at Deer Valley’s Garff Ranch and then we cruised through Kamas like tourists- buying home-smoked jerky and shopping at the New West Country Store. I dropped them at their hotel so I could grab Sage from the sitter’s, shower and head back out for dinner. Whew. The last time they were here (a year ago), they complained of boredom. This time, they’ll go home needing a vacation! 🙂

Ryan’s got to stop farting! If he doesn’t, he’s sleeping someplace else. I deseparately need my sleep. For the past four nights, his silent stench has woken me up. I’ll turn in bed, the sheets will invariably lift and, poof, it’s like I’ve stepped into a sewer system. The smell is enough to kill small farm animals. And it wakes me in an angry way. Maybe he’s telling the truth when he says he has no idea he’s doing it. I don’t care. It has to stop! It’s driving me crazy.
Last night, I got so mad. Not only did he fart a zillion times, but he rolled over to my side of the bed to do it. I shoved him back over and he didn’t even grunt. Not fair that he can sleep through this vile act. When he snores, my nudges will wake him and he stops. My theory that if he wakes me up, I’m waking him up doesn’t apply to his gas. Waking him up, doesn’t make the offense go away. It just makes him lift the sheets and release more of the toxic fumes.
Living with a guy, granted, isn’t exactly wine and roses 24/7 but it shouldn’t be backwash and stinkweed either. Ryan’s a sweet guy and he means well most of the time but I’ve never had a boyfriend with gas this bad. During the day, he’s gotten better at not walking over to me and farting. Now he tries to fart in the bathroom or at least out of earshot. But at night, it seems unavoidable and it’s killing me. The couch has his name written all over it. Men, why are you so disgusting?

Ok, so it’s only temporary. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Ryan’s been looking for a place to buy in Salt Lake and in the meantime has run his current apartment into a hellhole. I won’t ever spend the night there (ick). Not to mention he can’t remember the last time he changed his sheets. He actually threw away all of his dishes because after spending months as a science experiment in his sink they were easier to toss than clean.
He’s at my place (in Park City) all the time anyway, I convince myself. What would really be different? Not to mention the Red Sox playoffs have begun so he’ll be up here for sure. But it was always comforting to know that I could send him home to his place and it wouldn’t mean anything more than he was spending the night at his place. Now, if he sleeps somewhere else it’s a big deal.

We had talked about living together but the discussion ends with me saying, “If you want this relationship to last, never move in.” It’s me not him. I’m a pain inthe ass to live with. I like my space, I need to control my space, and I suck as a sharer. I know my limitations. Fortunately, so does Ryan. He enjoys pushing my buttons but he also knows when he’s gone too far and how to make amends. Chinese Food and a big hug.
We’ve lasted this long because of him, not me. He’s terrific and easy going even when I’m a raging bitch. I so love that guy! But we could always take a breather in separate corners.
Then I go and f*^% it all up by suggesting he move in until he finds a place to buy sla he pays for twice a month housecleaning. I don’t ask for much- I guess – because he took the move-out letter to his landlord today. Starting Nov. 1, we will officially be living together.
Yikes! Am I making the biggest mistake of my life? I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the status quo and I could tell that Ryan is scared to death as well; even when he happily cuddled with Sage and announced that he would now see her every day- (like he doesn’t already!)
It’s temporary, I repeat. We did this once before but Sage wasn’t in the picture and Ryan didn’t have a driver’s license. He was stuck at my place, driving me mad instead of driving. I couldn’t wait for him to get out and move down to Salt Lake City.
This time is supposedly just until he buys a place, but we both know that if we’re doing well together he may buy the place and stick renters in, instead of himself. Plus, Sage would sure miss her him once she got used to having him around.
Some may wonder what I’m afraid of. Those are the ones who have never lived with a boyfriend. A boyfriend whose only reference to living with a woman is living with his mother. Ryan slipped up tonight and said, “Maybe now that I’m here, we’ll cook more.” I corrected him that “we’ll” means “me” and “No, I do not plan to cook more.” Nor do I intend to do his laundry or his cleaning. Hence, the cleaning lady that he will be paying for. That’s the selling point for sure. Up till now, our biggest battles have been over the fact that he has lived here four nights a week for more than five years and hasn’t once cleaned a toilet or sink or floor. Pros and cons:
Pros-
I can hit the gym every afternoon if I want because he’ll be here right after work instead of his place and can watch Sage.
twice a month house cleaning
saving money on both sides. He pays no rent and I get help with bills
Someone to cuddle with at night and watch Heroes with
twice a month house cleaning
I can play with the girls on baseball nights while he watches Tv and Sage
Cons-
More Mess
Having to move my stuff around to make room for his stuff
Nowhere to run
Toilet seat up and guy gas
Don’t get the bed all to myself
Well, I better get back to work. Just needed to flush out my thoughts. I feel better now; actually a bit excited at the new challenge ahead. I’ll keep you posted.
BTW, the new issue of Sports Guide is out and posted on our site: www.sportsguidemag.com. Check it out!