All bark, no bite.

As some of you know, Hubs and I are going on vacation very soon.

(But don't worry, my blog won't be abandoned. I have some tricks up my sleeve.)

(Actually, I very rarely wear sleeves because I choose to believe that Southern California is always a sunny 75 degrees.)

(So let's say I have some tricks down my shirt. It's like keeping cash in your bra. Kind of.)

Hubs and I have only been on one major vacation before this, and that was our honeymoon. Sure, a few weekends here and there, but that doesn't count.

The preparations for our honeymoon were one big blur. I don't remember anything. In fact, I don't really remember anything that happened that entire month. It was a big confusion of tulle, seating charts, and spray tanning.

All I know is one day I woke up, and then people fussed around me for about 5 hours, I got crammed into a big white dress, and suddenly I was in Cancun with more luggage than I needed.

Getting ready for this vacation? Way different. Mainly because I'm in charge. And coherent.

(It's not all it's cracked up to be. Oblivion is highly underrated.)

You've all heard about my husband, yes? Big tall guy, lets me blog about him? He's amazing.

(Amazingly full of hot air.)

Hubs has a tendency to be a bit blustery. He likes to talk loudly. He likes to make a big deal out of things. He gets attitude-y. And sometimes, I don't think he realizes how he comes across.

So I tell him.

(Helper. I am helping.)

(Usually, it only makes him more blustery.)

The bummer about it is this: Sometimes, people's first impression of my husband is his prickly exterior. And that makes him look like a jerk.

I'm trying to fix him. I started with his ailments, then the closet, and I'm working my way towards the ultimate goal, which is his frowny face.

(Clearly, I have no idea why he would EVER be in a bad mood, because after all, he gets to live with me. Lucky, lucky man.)

Hubs works hard. He is a good man. He is kind and sweet; he bakes me a cake for my birthday, showers me with gifts, and loves all of our pets.

But when he gets in a crummy mood, you'd think he had to live in the gutter and french kiss sewer rats while simultaneously changing old people's diapers and donating his paycheck to pedophiles, all while wearing a polyester suit and shoes that pinch.

At those times, NOTHING is right, EVERYTHING is wrong, and I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND.

At those times, my mother-in-law and I refer to him as Eeyore.

(That is, if Eeyore managed to look sad while also looking as though he wanted to kick Christopher Robin's scrawny ass.)

So my goal on this vacation is for Hubs to not have a single Ass-kicking Eeyore moment.

(It might or might not need to involve lingerie, room service, and lots of alcohol.)

(For him. I'll be sunning myself on a lounge chair, making my Christmas list.)

But seriously. Hubs needs a relaxing vacation. He takes good care of me and our animal babies. And since we're pretty demanding, I'm sure that's a lot of pressure.

(Cuz, you know, filling their food bowls and letting me have my way is pretty hard.)

Hubs and I are looking forward to this time together. This is potentially our last "baby-less" vacation. The next phase in our lives is coming very quickly, and before we start trying for that little bundle of joy, we're having one last hurrah.

So Hubs? Lighten up. You're not fooling anyone with your tough-guy attitude.

Especially someone who has heard your baby-talk conversations with our 5 pound Yorkie.