WEEK 4 (Mar 10, 2018):
The belching began. And no, I’m not going to pull your finger, Dean!
I grew up with that game. Mom said she got so tired of my dad doing it, for payback she poured a bucket of ice water over the top of the shower with my dad in there.
She didn’t know he was shaving at that moment.
There was blood.
I prayed for years that I wouldn’t get the typical man that goes around belching and farting All. The. Time.
I didn’t want to live with a constant barrage of belches, Polish Kisses, Dutch Ovens, and ever popular Quick-Quick Pull My Finger.
God is good.
Dean is not very typical, but he is all man, and I guess it goes with the territory. At least this part is kept to a minimum. (He would want me to remind you he is very civilized.)
Mark Lindsay, one of my former singles pastors had a saying, “Dating is the act of concealing; marriage is the act of revealing.”
He was right, except that Dean and I purposed to lay it all out on the table from the get-go, so there weren’t many surprises.
Dean has said numerous times about some of my … uh, issues, “Your [mother/brother] said something about that.” He shook his head. “I should have listened.”
I like to remind him that I never hid [given issue.] Then I’d hold up my left hand and point to the ring. “Too late!”
But every now and again there’s something I find out about him that’s unexpected.
This week I learned that my husband is disgusted by wounds. I had a cyst removed on my head. Thank God it’s under my hair where my ponytail rests.
“Do you want to see it?”
He tried not to throw up at my invitation.
I pressed, “Can you just look at it to see if it looks angry or infected?”
He gave me his I’m not amused look.
I backed off, but secretly celebrated that I’d finally gotten him.
* * *
We’ve made a habit of the good-night kiss and saying “I love you” at bedtime. And we always kiss good-bye in the mornings.
I also made it for the first time in 5 months to Word Weavers International, a Christian writers critique group.
A sense of normalcy overcame me as my old life and new life wove together.
As the name change ordeal continued, I got my new Driver’s License, but they didn’t extend the expiration date; only updated the name and address. (I don’t look forward to renewing it again in six months.)
Concealed weapons permit? Well, I’d applied for that years ago, but just started using it the year before, after the FBI had a local county sheriff’s agent inform me that I’m on an ISIS Kill List.
Good times.
Updated. I checked items off the list like a pro.
Regardless, I now have the challenge of remembering who I am. For fifty years I identified as a Hampton. Now I’m a Friscea, or will be officially once the federal government acknowledges my request.
* * *
Dean hadn’t seen a movie since Transformers 2006, where he endured a cacophony of coughs, sniffles, and various other noises. It kept him away for over a decade. I’ve learned not to ask because he WON’T go. Then over the holidays he went to three or four with his fellow real estate buddies.
I was stunned. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been asking for a year!”
He replied, “Well he asked, and I wasn’t working. Besides, I wanted to see that movie.”
“I know. I wanted to see it too,” I said. “We talked about how I wanted to see that movie.”
Maybe I’d wore him down on the idea.
He prefers the cheaper daytime tickets, while my job schedule does not have that kind of flexibility.
The jokes on him. Now he has to endure all the holiday blockbusters again with me on DVD as they come in from the library, my favorite movie rental venue – it’s free!
But as things would have it, we reached a milestone when I finally got him to go at night.
Our first movie together was this week, the Death Wish remake with Bruce Willis. After he agreed to go, it took me three scheduling attempts before succeeding, but we did enjoy it.
Nevertheless, I feel like it’s going to be a trial to get him to go again. If I aim for Tuesday’s discount nights, I might have a better chance of persuading him.
* * *
This Friday ended the second week of roof repairs. Dean was happy with the progress and looking forward to the day he wouldn’t have to get out and lift the garage door by hand, which he’s been doing for half a year, since the tornado damaged the
ceiling holding the automatic opener.
While they repair the trusses, frame, and garage ceiling, they’ve locked the large door in place. Now both cars have to be in the narrow driveway at night, because the strict homeowner’s association forbids overnight street parking. It’s not fun trying to squeeze between the two vehicles to get in or out on the narrow driveway.
2 Cor 4: 17-18—For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory (KJV)