Decisions, decisions

Recently we bought a second kayak, one for my wife. Very nice, too. It is a Field and Stream Eagle Talon. Even the name is impressive. And looks, oh man does it look good. Twelve feet of blue, white, black  camouflage beauty. Our other kayak is wonderful, but it is an Emotion Stealth, a nice kayak but the name even says nondescript, unnoticeable. It is a uniform gray front to back.

I decided that maybe the new kayak would be "my kayak,' and my wife could have the old, bland kayak. But, I made the mistake of posting pictures all over Facebook saying here is my wife's new kayak. People at work, friends, family know which one is hers.

I will become the big jerk who took the poor girl's new kayak. I don't suppose I really need that kind of image haunting me. I have read that bloggers have to establish their "brand." It is important to have a reputation for reliability, consistency. Imagine what that would do to my brand.

"Oh did you read the Latest at Life Explained?"

"Not after he stole that kayak, the bastard."

"Oh, that's right."

I would have the new kayak, but my brand would be tarnished beyond repair. I am too old to build a new brand. I am still trying to establish this one.

So, I will paddle on the Stealth in ignominy, unseen, bland, dull, while my wife cruises in style. All the people on the shore saying "who is that in that Eagle Talon? They must be fascinating."

Unless she decides to give me the new one. Nothing I could do about that, right?

Friday the Thirteenth, Valentines Day, and Falling Anvils, Oh No.

It is Friday the Thirteenth.  And tomorrow is Saint Valentine's Day. Both of these days carry ominous, horrible imagery.  A little known fact, there have been several Saint Valentine's Day Massacres. Most of them involve an angry wife who did not want a new SwifterÔ for this special day. Of course, what she did want was hidden behind layers of subterfuge, and guile, guerilla gift exchange.

 
Women are experts at misinformation. Leading a poor, unsuspecting man along a fairy tale path, singing birds, and dancing rabbits lining the trail. Out of nowhere an anvil* will drop on his foot. While the poor sap is dancing around on one foot, holding the other in both hands, tears streaming down his face, pain choking his ability to hear or understand, she will follow along explaining what he did wrong, at the top of her lungs.

 
"Well, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." She will say, walking away, as he drops onto his back, waiting for next snow to come and cover him

 
But, it is all worth it. All of the pain, all of the torment, all of the doubt, all of the half crazed attacks of desperate, paranoid imagination, these are a small price to pay. Walking into the school building where I go to the gym, seeing my wife smile at me. Calling her and hearing her voice, these make life worth living. Mignon Mclaughlin said "A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person." And, she was right.

 
So, to everybody who made it this far, thanks for reading, it hasn't always been easy, maybe it never was. To my wife, Happy Valentine's Day, we should do it again next year. I can't imagine life without you, and I have a pretty good imagination.

 

 
*Studies conducted by Acme Cartoon Products indicate an anvil carries the optimal, comic payload for a smashed foot. A piano is an acceptably hilarious method to smash a whole person but is too large and indiscriminate for a target as small as a foot. Wives are free to use whichever device is at hand, of course.

Saint Valentine's Day

As we approach the confectioners, to purchase chocolate covered offerings, the florists to buy flowers, and the stationary store to pick out the appropriately affectionate card for our chosen one, let us not forget the man responsible for all of the love, joy, and romance of the day.

An artist interpretation.
Not the real Saint Valentine.

Let me introduce, Saint Valentine.  A Roman priest from the 3rd century, during the time of Claudius the II (Roman, for Junior) who thought the best soldiers were single men (apparently, Claudius II (Roman for I + I) was never married, if you catch my drift), and banned the marriage of all "young people."  Young was Roman for "able to shove a spear all the way through one of our enemies."  

Valentine, the priest, did not care for this mandate and performed many ceremonies, marrying young people without concern for the silly rules of Claudius II (Roman for III - I).*

Here is where the romantic bit came in, Claudius II (Roman for almost as good as I,but a lot cheaper) for was so moved by this brave, and noble gesture that he ended the siege of the Balkans, freed the slaves and granted Carthage sovereignty.

No, he didn't really do that, Roman emperors were not normally very tolerant of disobedience.  Preferring the blind loyalty that comes with being in charge of the a hideously large empire that even now, hundreds of years later it still is covered in scholarly research, popular art and web logs.  Claudius II (Roman for, "wow, that was kind of overkill) had him beaten, stoned and decapitated. 

Well, at least they are better than Peeps.

Which is why we celebrate Saint Valentine's day, with chocolate, flowers, dinners, dancing, romance and love.  Yeah, I know, it doesn't make any sense to me either.

Anyway, here is the perfect opportunity to mention my wife.  A woman of infinite patience, who has learned to suffer foolishness gladly over the years, and who saved me from an early and bad end, though sometimes I am sure she wonders why she did that.  Thank you, for everything, Happy Valentines Day!

* Yes, I know there are other beliefs about the origin of this day, but it is my blog, after all.

Buyer Beware, the language of coffee.

Last night my wife gave me a Starbucks gift card.  This made me very happy, because there is a delightful little game we play at Starbucks when I stop in to buy coffee. 

“I would like a medium coffee, black, please.”   I say with a touch of a smile lighting my face.

“You want a Grande, Bold, no room for cream.”  They offer, a little anger pretending to foam from their mouth.

I look thoughtfully at the counter person, and pretend to think about their offer, earnestly, sincerely.  And say, “that sounds great, but this morning, I will just stick with a medium coffee, black.  Thank you, though.”

At this point the person at the cash register feigns disgust, and says “that is what a Grande, Bold is” and acts a little angry.

“Great, thank you so much.”  I say politely, with all of the gratitude only Friday can give.

This morning was even better, because I had an old gift card with a balance, and Starbucks hates to share the balance with the owner of the card, it is their little secret.  And there was only 10¢ on the card.  She really pretended to be upset by this.  “There is only TEN CENTS on this card, you still OWE ME!!!!” 

“I have this one, and it is brand new.”   I tried to remove it from the cardboard display, and she was not going to wait around for that sort of nonsense.

"I can do it with that still on."  She pretended to whisper "damn you."  I pretended not to hear.

She finishes the transaction and says “here is your coffee, have a nice day, jerk.”

I love Friday at Starbucks.  It feels like home.  But I have teenagers living there.