The One Who Spits In My Sink Everyday

Yes, indeedy. This is about the most important person in my life. I've known her since I was about 17 years old. When I first saw her she was wearing blue jeans and a red top. She was so cute that I had to get to know her. At that initial moment she was sitting cross legged on the floor of her pastor's office. He was behind his desk. Her father was in a chair in front of the desk. It was a Saturday morning and they were getting ready to go on "bus ministry." That meant they were going to drive the church bus around the neighborhood and look for kids that wanted a ride to church the next morning. I suddenly took a keen interest in community outreach among children.

We wound up dating for four years and some months. When she was 19 and I was 22 I married her. Since that day she has been the one who spits in my sink every morning. I don't really pay much attention to this daily ritual. It is all a part of brushing your teeth. You put the paste on the brush, you scrub your teeth, you rinse your mouth, and you spit in the sink. Today we have been married for 11,010 days. That's a lot of spitting.

I know a lot about this woman. I know that she would rather eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich than to go out and eat alone. I know that she is much more concerned about the care of her family than she is about her own self. We have reproduced ourselves three times and so that is a lot of care-giving we are talking about. I have never seen her fail to give care when it was needed. Not one time. I know that from the time we share a good night kiss she will most likely be sound asleep within 2 minutes. I will never understand how she pulls it off but I promise you it is true. She falls asleep faster than I can turn over and turn out the light. I know that she is smarter than I am but she tries to convince me that she isn't. I know that I am a better driver than she is but she has never had a ticket or an accident and I have had both. Something is wrong there. Still, I hope the trend continues because I never want her to be involved in an accident. That is a nightmare I avoid thinking about. I know that HGTV is the only channel she needs. I know that she loves frilly girly stuff but often pretends that they are not important to her. That is because she is afraid I will spend money on her and she always sees something or someone as more worthy of the funds. I know that she loves it when I go behind her back and buy her something frilly anyway because it tells her how much I love her. I know that she makes friends quickly and once you are her friend she is fiercely protective of you. I know that watching her adult children interact with each other is one of the greatest joys of her life. I know that Elle Parker is another one. I know that her son-in-law and daughter's-in-law have been adopted by her heart as if they were her own flesh.

And perhaps best of all I know that she loves spitting in my sink everyday. Because it means we made it. There is a lot more spitting to do. And as long as it is in my sink I will continue to be the happiest man in the world.

Hey! That's my car! Hey! That's my wife!

So I was sitting on my luxury air mattress today doing a lot of nutten when my phone rang. It was my lovely wife calling to talk to me while she drove to Kelli's house on the other side of St. Louis. After a few minutes she muttered that there were cars stopped up ahead. Not good. Even worse was the fact that she was on a stretch of I-270 in Illinois between what is known as the "Canal Bridge" and the "Chain of Rocks Bridge." That's about 3 miles of exit-less territory. You are actually driving across a man made island just before crossing the Mississippi River.

Traffic stopped. I grabbed my laptop and surfed to a site that shows traffic conditions in the St. Louis area. She was in for a long wait. A car in the westbound lanes of her expressway, the lanes she was in, had managed to flip over while on the river bridge. (I'll never understand how you make a car do that.) Nary a car was moving. It was clear that this would take a while.

We were entertaining each other with typical husband/wife conversation when I noticed a link for "traffic cams." Hmmm. I clicked the link. It gave me options of dozens of camera's across St. Louis. Two got my attention. They were in the general area where she was stuck. I clicked the first link. A huge line of cars stood still facing Missouri. I clicked the other camera. Same result. I began asking her about her exact location. We talked about the trucks that were around her and what road signs might be nearby.

Today ... I saw my car and my wife three times stuck in a traffic jam in St. Louis. Once she even got out and waved at the camera. (Yes, the car was stopped at the time!) Unfortunately the camera kept turning and I didn't see her do it. But there is no doubt that it was her that I saw. One emerald green mustang with a khaki convertible top and two white semi's and an orange semi next to her. I saw her again at the next camera as she stopped next to the "Rest Area Ahead" sign.

It was almost as surreal as a cow with a "Virginia Tech" logo on it's forehead. But not quite.

Cow Tales Part 2 (The cows are coming for us)

Look, I don't make this stuff up. Some guy in Virginia has a cow with a unique marking on it's forehead. It's the logo of Virginia Tech. Yeah, really. He didn't put it there. It was born that way. Here's the NBC web site says about the bovine.

"The wife of one of the calf's owners was watching a Virginia Tech football game one day when she glanced over at the calf and saw the VT logo. She couldn't believe her eyes, according to Hayden. 'It's a feeling that other people who look at the calf for the first time can relate to. They think it was painted on. It's hard to believe it was there, actually grew there,' Hayden says"

For some reason this does not surprise me. Yesterday I wrote my first blog ever about a cow. They obviously monitor this web site. It only makes sense that the cows of the world would take advantage of the situation and make their move. I suggest that you keep an eye on the fields. Don't stand in front of the barn door. They are coming. The cows. They have smelled the fragrance of fame. They have tasted the grandeur of glory.

Beware the cows.

Cow Tales

There is a story posted by the AP tonight about a tornado that ruthlessly ripped through an Arkansas community last night. The not-so-amusing part is that a man was killed when his mobile home was blown into a tree. That is tragedy and I certainly mean no disrespect.

But then there is the cow.

Here is how the AP phrases it ... "Miraculously, the same tornado swept up a cow and carried it close to a mile. Its owner says the animal was uninjured. "

Hmm. For the first time in my life I find myself wondering what it feels like to be a cow. There is the whole "milk me" issue. I really don't even want to go there. Then there is the "eat grass" thing. Yeah, I'm a little curious about it but not curious enough to carry a plate of "Kentucky Blue Grass" up to my table and grab a fork. Then there is ... well, actually I don't think there is anything else. I'm not a farmer but my keen observational skills indicate that's about it.

Unless, of course, you go flying.

Do cows think? There clearly isn't much to think about. Milk and grass. Chew your cud. There ya go. And then all of a sudden you find yourself on a cloudy day, a little wind, kind of humid. But the calendar in the barn tells you it's January so you aren't too concerned. Besides, you are a cow. And before those thoughts even flash (okay, crawl) through your cow brain ... you are airborne. If cows CAN think ... this would probably be a good moment to do so. "Hey, there's the barn! And over there is Farmer Bob's house! Wow! Isn't that the highway? I'm over the highway! I'm across the highway! Woo Hoo!"

There is no point to this blog. None. You can go to bed now.

Stupid Picture Chronicles 17

I'm really not sure that this qualifies as a "stupid" picture. I'm not sure what it qualifies as. But somebody lost the front end off of their Mustang. As a Mustang owner myself ... I feel their pain. And, well, they must feel pretty stupid driving around without it. So yeah. Yeah. It fits as a "stupid" picture. Here is #17 for your enjoyment!