This week’s blog is all about my lovely husband “Jim” (I still don’t believe that’s his real name). Today we celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary.
And since I couldn’t find what the appropriate gift was on the list for a 17th, I’m going to give the gift of words.
For anyone who knows me, maintaining that level of consistency for that long without just wandering off is a rather large feat.
And, anyone who knows me will also agree to the super-human accomplishment by “Jim” for having lived with me every freakin’ day…for 6,205 days…148,920 hours…8,935,200 minutes. Not that the poor man is counting or anything.
I only hope the three goats, basket of root vegetables and the plot of dirt he got from my village elders was enough to make up for it all.
So, I thought, given his obvious insatiable thirst for pain and discomfort, maybe he deserved a little shout out on this, the anniversary of his decline into madness.
We’ve traveled the world together, had the mad rollercoaster that is twins, moved too many times to count, fart and pee in front of each other. What story would be a good one to really capture the essence that is “us”?
The one that comes to mind is the Incident of the Bee in the Bathtub. So that is the one I’ll tell, as a tribute.
(The knocking-himself-out-on-a-ceiling-fan story will have to wait for his birthday.)
By the way, this story does nothing but paint us both as complete morons.
Back before we went down the slippery slope (covered with rusty razor blades) of parenthood, we used to do monthly getaways to quaint bed and breakfasts all around the Puget Sound.
On this occasion we headed to Victoria for our romantic getaway, staying at a lovely Victorian B&B across from a bucolic, grassy park.
We checked in and, as childless people tend to do, we decided to take a bath in the middle of the day! We were that filthy.
The large Jacuzzi tub was positioned right next to the bed, in a large bay window that overlooked the park across the street.
Once you are sitting inside the tub, you could not be seen from outside. But, you sort of had to slide in on your stomach to avoid showing the world your kibbles and bits. And so we slid like Army grunts into our soapy haven without detection from the outside world.
Once in the tub, we noticed there was a lovely wedding happening in the park so we soaked and watched all the hazy loveliness of new love blossoming across the street as we sipped champagne.
As we relaxed, we both started to hear a loud buzzing noise and noticed we were beginning to be dive bombed by a very large and annoyed wasp. We swatted it away and thought for a minute he had found something else to occupy his time. But, it would seem he was just getting started.
Over the next hours (OK, it was probably 90 seconds) we were terrorized relentlessly by this little asshole. I don’t know what we did to piss him off so much, I believe wasps by their very nature are just pissed off, but he went after us with a vengeance as if we had killed his family and burned down his dry cleaning business.
(Cue The Benny Hill Show theme music….now!)
Our swatting and flailing grew to a fevered pitch. There was water splashing all over the place, we were slipping and sliding all over, hopping and dancing around trying to get the damned thing to stop terrorizing us.
Finally the water must have gotten it because we saw it floating in the suds as we stared at it, panting from the exertion.
As we high-fived each other on our exceptional wasp survival skills we realized that we were standing, buck naked (or is it butt naked…I’ve never known), in front of the window for all the gentle citizenry of Canada to see.
This of course, is humiliation enough. But we also realized that there were quite a few people at that wedding who were no longer paying attention to the exchanging of vows happening in front of them.
We both waved to them and slowly sank back into the tub, where, “Jim” was stung by the dead bee anyway.
So, Happy Anniversary, “Jim”! You are a brave fighter of bees, a tolerable scrabble player, fair armchair electrician, and a man with the cohones to be married to me. Well done!
And perhaps, some day you will reveal your true identity.