Major League.

After nearly six years of marriage, I think I'm finally ready to dub myself a pro.

It all started when I told the husband that he should not think of doing the dishes as a chore, but as a grown up version of Tetris.

Look at all the different shapes and sizes of the dishes. See how they all need to fit inside this square box? Now use your bestest most efficient strategy to stack them and if they all get clean, it's like ONE MILLION POINTS!


Next it was conquering healthy eating. The husband refuses to eat vegetables. Especially green ones. But it's proven that dark leafy greens help fight against prostate and colon cancer. I found that 2 cups of spinach, mushrooms, onions and garlic put through the food processor can easily be disguised in spaghetti sauce. Eat up my precious. It's for the sake of your balls. You'll thank me later.

The most recent, and dub-worthy event took place last week. I had gone grocery shopping and the husband had stayed a little late at work. We were bound to get home right around the same time. I pulled in the garage with my grocery haul. I'd been sick. I was tired. Grocery shopping is the devil it's self. And then it hit me:

Leave garage door open. Pop up rear hatch window, exposing all of the many bags of groceries in the back of my SUV that need to be hauled in. Take one sack inside. Place on counter. Pour glass of wine. Partake of said wine and wait.

Whala!

Husband walks in 4 minutes later and says "It looks like you still have quite a bit of groceries left to bring in. I'll grab them for you."

And that ladies and gents is how I graduated to the big leagues.