My BFF, Revisited

Lots of people say they don't care what people think, but few people actually manage to live that statement. My husband truly doesn't care. He will never be accused of being Politically Correct. He has no desire to Keep Up With The Joneses. It doesn't bother him one smidgen that he doesn't have Friends In High Places.


He is fortunate to not be bothered by other's opinions, but this is sometimes seen as nonchalance regarding people's feelings. He has occasionally found himself in the doghouse because of his bluntness. He doesn't deliberately hurt people, because he's actually very kind-hearted. He doesn't tolerate public stupidity well, but he's reasonably social and friendly.


He's well aware that his supposedly-cavalier attitude is misunderstood by most of society. He even gets enjoyment from that realization at times. That's when the fun begins.

Tom is the kind of guy who will use Duck Tape to fix things, without regard to how it looks. He will rig something up to save the cost of a Professional Repair Job. Remember his car and his football?

Well, his car is currently under the weather. (Most people would say it was junk-yard bound when he got it, but most people aren't Tom.) She's a faithful little thing, requiring little more than a quart or two of oil every once in a while, very few gas refills, and a couple tomato soup cans and coat hangers to repair muffler damage. Even the best of friends, however, occasionally get sick. LC's brakes have been balking for several weeks, and Tom has become quite adept at down-shifting to stop her.

As luck would have it, his parents were at our house when the brakes quit completely. (I should probably point out that Tom's dad is one of those people that just Don't Get Tom. His mother - TOTALLY gets Tom! He came by his nature honestly! But Dad...nope, just doesn't...never has, never will, doesn't even try.) They had stopped by for a few minutes, just before Tom got home from work, and were in the house talking to the kids. I was standing where I could see out the front door, but they couldn't.

I heard Tom's car coming down the street. I heard the engine shut off, thinking it sounded a little closer than normal. I looked out the window just in time to see LC bump up onto our curb and into our front yard. Just as quickly, the engine restarted, and I saw LC rolling back off the curb at an odd angle.

Taking everything I know about my husband into account, combined with the knowledge that he just narrowly missed hitting the back of his father's truck was hilarious. I was laughing like crazy, and didn't bother to explain to them, because I knew that his dad wouldn't find it amusing. This just made it more funny to me.

The problem of the car not having brakes means that either Tom has to fork over some money to a Professional Repair Man, or he has to find another mode of transportation if he intends to keep food on our table. Since there is no more snow on the ground, his choice was to save money right now.

We were fortunate to find some really nice, used, PLAIN bicycles about a month ago at a very nice price. I don't like speed bikes. I just want a normal bicycle that will move in a forward motion when I peddle. I don't need fancy-schmancy. We bought a bike trailer/stroller combo for the little ones, and now we can go for rides on nice-weather days. Free entertainment is right up Tom's alley. Also up Tom's alley is biking to work.

It's 6 miles to Tom's place of employment. He goes in at 6 AM. He's been riding in 33-degree, rainy weather. He doesn't mind the cold OR the rain. He just has to prepare, which is yet another source of entertainment.













Never one to let a Make Deanna Laugh opportunity slip by, this is the point where he yells, "I'm Crowning!!" (Yeah, yeah - I got yer CROWN right here, buddy! Don't even GO there with me!)







Genius. Ingenious. Depends on your perspective. I happen to think he's not only amusing, but pretty darn fun to be around.

My BFF

For inquiring minds who wonder what kind of man would find amusement in being married to me...

Meet my husband - a very patient and long-suffering person. His dry sense of humor and lack of tact sometimes land him in hot water, but like me, he can fit in with polite society if necessary. (For more info on how he accomplishes that, see his Genius Tom label in my sidebar...)


1)Husbands Name: Officially, Thomas Scott. I call him Honey. He calls himself ELH when he writes something to me. Ever Lovin' Husband

2)How long have you been married?: 18 years on August 30.

3)How long did you date?: 4 months

4)What did he want to be when he grew up? A Preacher. He thought they only worked one day a week.

5)Who eats more sweets?: Oh most indubitably me.

6)Who is the better singer?: Ya know that song about singers who can't carry a tune in a bucket? He's a selective bucket carrier. He has better luck not sloshing the contents out if he's listened to the song for 29 years. Every once in a while, he'll hit one spot on, though. Jimmy Buffett seems to be friendly to his singing ability. Otherwise, I'm the better singer. "But after one round with Jose Cuervo..."

7)Who is smarter?: We're both pretty intelligent. He's just more gracious about it.

8)Who does the laundry?: He can, but I'm home, so I
do. He doesn't fold it the way I like, anyway. But I appreciate the effort. And the kids can refold.

9)Who pays the bills?: He brings home the bacon, I fry it up in the pan, the creditors enjoy the taste.

10)Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? It's closer to the door, so I do, because the kids always want Mom if they need something at night.


11)Who mows the lawn?: We have teenagers.

12)Who cooks dinner?: We share this responsibility. He cooks alot more in summer, because he's the grill chef. I make the sides.

13)Who drives?: He does. All the time. I don't like to drive. He doesn't like for me to drive. It's a mutual thing.

14)Who is the first to say they are wrong?: Oh brother - this is very hard for both of us. Fortunately, we rarely disagree. Life taught us it just ain't worth it. We split this, too. There's benefits to makin' up......

15)What is his favorite TV show/movie? He made me watch Duel. If your spouse ever suggests that you watch Duel, claim PMS and go to bed with the heating pad and a really, really, really long book. Unless, of course, you're in to sagas about middle-aged men being chased across the desert by demon-possessed truck drivers hellbent on bringing destruction to earth by eliminating the middle-aged man. And you never see anything but the truck-driver's boots. He dies in the end. At least it looks like he dies, because his truck goes over a cliff. Claim PMS. Unless you're a guy. That would be weird. And you might actually like the movie, anyway.

16)Who kissed who first?: He says I kissed him first. I deny that, because I don't actually remember. And Mr. Edwards would have a FIT if he thought the girl made the first move. So, Tom kissed Deanna first.

17)Who asked who out first?: He called me and asked me out. Blind-date. He was my third blind-date Tom. He is by far the best blind-date Tom.

18)Who wears the pants?: We both wear pants. I grew up being told Christian Women Didn't Wear Pants. Hooey! OH! You're asking Who's the Boss! He's the quiet boss. The kids ask me, generally, if they can do something, and he's fine with that. I keep track of the calendar. It just makes sense. But don't question his authority. That doesn't turn out well for the child questioning.

19) Who cuts his hair?


....um....



























20) Name one of his favorite people (besides you)? Billy Graham and Morry Hummel.


And now you know!

Conveniences, Lavatories, and Matrimonial Bliss

I suppose in a 3rd World country, a real mattress is considered a Modern Convenience, but in these parts, it's a necessity.

When our boys were little, we never took them camping until they were about 6. While I am sure we had opportunity to do so, for some reason, we just never did.

It was a logical, if subliminally induced, choice. A choice which we abandoned this past week, in an apparent attempt to prove we could successfully combine teenagers, infants, toddlers, rain, sandy blankets, the desire to escape hammers and dust, Smores, and restrooms with questionable cleaning routines. Throw in the fact that one of the friends that one of the children invited MEANT it when he said he didn't like camping, along with a healthy dose of Baby Who Slept All Day And Played All Night and just for good measure toss in the obligatory Teenage Girl Campers Who Think Your Sons Are Hot and you've got a prescription for what amounts to a possible mutiny of gargantuan proportions! A self-mutiny!

I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE to camp. We look forward each year to our camping trips, and over the past decade, we've managed to fine tune our techniques to the point of it being something we could see ourselves doing for an entire summer in the future. Never let it be said, however, that camping is a luxury trip. It is work. When you have a 2 year old who doesn't sit still or shut his mouth, and when you have a baby who still isn't sleeping longer than five or six hours at night, it isn't work.

It's insanity!

After 5 nights, this woman's back had just plain had enough of an under-inflated air mattress and when Tom looked sympathetically at me on Friday morning and said "You just wanna go home, don't you?" I didn't bother to be demure, coy, or understanding.

...

("YES!!" she groaned in a very un-When Harry Met Sally way.)

...

It was a bittersweet moment for me, as I do really enjoy camping. The negativity I speak with concerning this particular trip is stated with a disclaimer: I did have a fun time being with my family. But our lives have been a wee bit screwy over the past week, due to the bathroom project, trying to arrange for Gabe's care, maintaining our cleaning business, and oh, I forgot to mention - the camping excursion started out with a bang before we left our street. Tom's car decided to be un-cooperative, so after spending hours getting the poor little horse loaded down with supplies, it rebelled by pretending to have inhaled twenty cartons of Marlboros. We promptly had to ditch our organizational skills and repack the bare necessities into one vehicle and make two trips to transport 10 people.

Our 2 year old had a great time, and we had many opportunities to observe his highly imaginative mind at work in his new surroundings, which is always a riot, so I am happy that we didn't cancel our trip completely without trying the experiment. But future camping trips will be for persons of a certain age - we're thinking six still sounds like a good solid figure, for some reason.

Now about the bathroom - the construction is finished, the contractors are gone and they even took the majority of their dust with them. We have a spacious handicap-accessible bathroom. There are still some minor adjustments to be completed, and then we can paint and call it a done deal. I'm pleased that our laundry facilities will soon be located where I don't have to scan for bats prior to starting the day's chores.

This past Saturday, Tom and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary. Being as how (what a strange phrase!) we were supposed to be camping with our children, we had not made arrangements to be able to spend time together without kids or have a date, so our kids got to participate in our dinner and a movie.




Only it was dinner from my childhood




and







one of my favorite places to go when I was growing up.










I need to snag some photos from my mother's stash, because I bet she's got some pictures of me pretty similar to this one! Minus the braces, of course.






We didn't realize until we drove into the park that there was a Labor Day festival happening, so the fireworks show was a cool surprise. This is the third time this summer that D. has been able to watch fireworks, and it is so funny to watch him and the expressions he gets on his face. Alas, once again, I have myriad photos of those expressions, but I'm not allowed to let ya see them at this point.

I've been so swamped I haven't even had time to rant about church signs, politics, or foster parenting issues! Whew!

So there you have it ladies and gentlemen - that's how my last week went. Love, Dirt, and the Whole Shebang.

Happy Trails to you - dust trails, that is.