I was bragging about my wife again, trying to describe her to a fellow pilot, so I asked my paramedic-
"Hey Dave, how would you describe Sara Jean?"
And that's no exaggeration. One of these days I promise to tell ya the story of how we met. It's a sordid, but interesting tale.
Seventy inches tall, blonde, and a face that renders some men speechless...
I love her more now than when I met her.
We've been together 27 years. I never figured I'd be able to stay with one woman that long. Part of the reason our relationship has worked is that I still find her stunning. The other part is that I've matured, and realized I had to put some work into patching cracks between us for our foundation to remain strong. Knowing she is doin' the same has made that job much easier.
I know I'm demanding, and a hard guy to live with. She's sometimes hard to live with too, but for different reasons...
she's a thoroughbred.
As I've written, on our way home from Hawaii we stopped for two days at Big Bubba's apartment in Mesa, Arizona. We wanted the chance to visit with him alone, (all three of us had made the Hawaii trip, remember), and we knew we'd need the time to wind down and regain our balance.
"Winding down" has a different meaning for Sara Jean than most of us...
Windows need cleaning? Carpets need shampooing or spot removal?
How'd this sink get in this shape?!
It's one of the things I love about her. She keeps an immaculate house, wakes me with a cuppa Joe, feeds me too much. In my wife alone there's enough energy to power a town of 1000 or so.
So I'm sitting at Big Bubba's computer... blogging, I think.
From behind me I hear, "You're gonna kill me."
I turned to look and she's serious... that beautiful face is ashen.
"No honey, nothing can be that bad. I'm NOT gonna kill you."
"Yes you are. I've done something terrible!"
Her hands are behind her back. She brings them around front, waist high, and has to cup them to keep the contents from falling to the floor. In those cupped hands she has what looks to be scraps of paper with something else mixed all through them. It looks most like the nest some exotic bird would build.
"What is it?"
"Your Datebook. I washed your clothes and forgot to take it out of your pocket."
Yeah, she's stunning alright... I'm exceedingly stunned!
It's November, so what she has done is completely destroy 11 months worth of contact names, phone numbers, and addresses. Tax info, combinations to various push-button door locks, dates that I needed to remember for whatever reason... now literally in tatters.
She can't help it... she felt she had to be doing something,
AND THOSE SHORTS DID NEED WASHING!
I bet I have the cleanest Datebook in the country!