For Better or Worse

Scott and I will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary in one month. You would think after all this time, very little would surprise me about this man, but somehow he still manages to get a rise out of me - sometimes that's a good thing; other times, not so much. Case in point...

I'll admit it, I'm a bit of a grump in the morning. My utterances are few. Scott on the other hand is ready for a full blown conversation. "Good morning! How are you this morning? How did you sleep? Is there any coffee?

I've just shuffled out of the bathroom and haven't even fed the dog yet and there's supposed to be coffee - aarrghh - really! My response yesterday was, "Yes. Okay. Okay. No." When Scott asked for further clarification, I said, "Don't you realize that I'm monosyllabic in the morning?!" (I realized that using a word with five syllables, I was contradicting myself). Scott's response: "Oh, I thought you were Norwegian."

And then there was the incident with the walker. The family knows that when Scott wants something and I'm not within his line of sight, he will holler at the top of his lungs, "Bonnie King."  Although his lungs are impaired, he still has volume when he wants it and can count cadence with the best of soldiers. The family thinks his name calling is funny and we all joke about it.

I was around the side of the house watering plants. I had my rubber flip flops on which had become soaked with water. Every step was a "squish." Then I heard it. "Bonnie King" - more than once. I squished and slipped my way around the corner to see Scott sitting in the garage (whoops - it's to be called his "studio") and pointing at the driveway. "It's my walker. Run after it; it's going down the driveway!"  Riiiiiiggghtt. I'm supposed to run in wet, slippery flip flops after a walker that with help from Scott, took off toward the gulley, made a quick left turn and headed down a 30 percent grade (or something like that) to the street.

I imagined the worst: that the walker was going to create some calamitous accident with a car running into it as it shot into the street. I squished my way to the top of the driveway and was very thankful to see the walker had stopped at the curb. Close one. I slipped and slid down the driveway, retrieved the runaway and in no uncertain terms asked Scott if he knew the walker had hand brakes. He indignantly explained, he was just trying to move it out of the way and it was a good thing it didn't hit the van in our driveway. My eyebrows rose on that one!

Oh well - there's never a dull moment living with Honey Haverly. For better or worse. :-)