Monday, December 28, 2009

There's A Stranger In My House

Several things have come to light in the last 3 months or so that have fairly rocked my world. They all have to do with my husband not being the man I thought he was.

First, there was a lovely lunch Mark and I shared at a hidden gem of a restaurant. Yummy soup and a big basket of homemade potato chips between us, we sat nestled in a pretty little wooden booth. I was quietly, sneakily I thought, picking all the folded potato chips out of the basket because they are my favorite (because they are superior to flat potato chips) and leaving Mark the flat ones. It was an intimate atmosphere and I decided to share my innermost secret love of the folded potato chips and how I was picking them all out of the basket. Self-sabotaging, I know, but I was all lovey-dovey and sharing. Plus I was expecting to hear that he prefers the flat crisps, which would just reaffirm what a perfect couple we make because we each eat what the other doesn't prefer.
Anyhow, what I learned was that he too believed that he was sneaking out all the good folded chips and leaving me the flat chip dross. How rude! Talk about a bombshell.

Then, there was Thanksgiving over at my Dad's house. The house used to belong to my Dad's Dad who recorded our measurements on the wooden trim of the doorway betwixt the kitchen and dining room. There you will find measurements not only of all the grand kids, but parents, cousins, step-relatives, neighbors and dogs.
After some good food and cocktails we decided to update some measurements. We learned that Sam is now taller than me, but I was happy to discover that I was not lying when I've completed questionnaires with my height as 5'6", 'cause I'm 5'6 1/4"! Woo!
The disturbing thing I learned is that my supposedly 6 foot tall husband of more than 7 years/been knowin' for like 10 years, has really been 5'11" this whole time! We've been living a lie, and I told him as much.

Next there was our hardcore IKEA shopping adventure. I had 3-D sketches, lists, and measurements. I dragged him all over the store, while I touched, tried, and inspected all sorts of things. I was still puzzling through how the whole thing would work, if the whole thing would work, so I was questioning the salespeople, questioning myself, and questioning Mark, who just. wanted. to be. done. with the whole thing. But Mark was patient and did his best to pay attention to things that mattered not to him.
As we sat in the warehouse waiting for our things to be brought out, I posed some sort of question or scenario to him, to which he immediately nodded enthusiastically. Too soon he nodded enthusiastically, because in the very same breath I totally changed my mind and said, no no no, that won't work, and I caught his head full of glazed-over eyes mechanically start shaking no, no, no. I said You're totally not listening to a word I say, are you? And he was caught. I think he even surprised himself a little at how instinctual the nodding and headshaking agreement was. So what I thought was this great team effort was nothing more than some sort of evolutionary husband self preservation mechanism. I'll give him a pass on that one, because I'm actually a little impressed.

However, most recently, I learned something so sad, so shocking, that I'm not sure what to do with the information. We were chit-chatting ourselves to sleep one night, all cozy and content in our bed, when somehow we came upon the subject of smells. Smells we prefer, smells we hate, you know. It's a conversation we've had countless times before for whatever reason. Naturally I say that one of my favorite smells my whole life through has been the smell of a horse. Everybody can appreciate horse smell. It is unmistakeable, the fresh grassy, horsey smell. It is aromatherapy for me to go sniff the horses, and I do not have a problem with smelling like one myself after a nice long ride. I mean, not to go out to dinner or anything, but still, I like it.
But Mark, after growing up around horses his whole life, humoring me with my horses, tells me that on a scale of 1 to 10, with pigs be a mega-stinky 10, and baby, I can vouch for that, he would places horses at least as an 8. What? And he said that when he tells me that I smell like a horse, no matter how gently he says it, it is most certainly not a compliment and he thinks I stink. It's a sad state of affairs indeed.

I'm trying to look on the bright side though. I figure things shouldn't get dull when we have so many enthralling unknowns to discover about one another. And he's already told me about the biggest tree he's ever known, so what more could there be to tell?


Michele R said...

I get to read two posts of yours in one day!!?! I have been married to the same man for 22 years and can honestly say I have never had a conversation about smells we like or dislike. But if we ever run out of conversation I have stored this in my brain.
Loved reading about the measurements--I posted a bit today about a new measuring stick. I cannot believe your son is taller than you--wow!! I am 5'6" also. I used to be a half an inch taller but I must have shrunk!
P.S. Do you need to verify the birthdate of this stranger in your house?

honeypiehorse said...

That is indeed sad. Ralf didn't know I could swim for 7 years.

Annette said...

Having been with the same guy for 30 years (YIKES!)I would love to learn something about my hubby that I didn't already know.

Sara said...

Ya'll have some interesting conversations. LOL Keeping things lively is a good thing. But he's got some smellers missing if he thinks horses stink.

And yes, small world. Only about 20 people know of Bois Darc. ;) Just drove through Tyler this past September. Honestly, I got lost and drove the loop around Tyler twice before I found my exit to Longview. So I saw it good. ;)

Have a great New Years!

Becky said...

It is good to keep things spicy, I reckon. And vaguely I remember something about a study showing that of all the smells this group of men were exposed to, the one that increased blood flow to their You Know Whats was:

(drumroll please)

Pumpkin pie. Not perfume or "musk" or weird pheromone concoctions. So maybe try that and report back?

Sara said...

Michele R, I'm just sayin', the smell conversation might make a good post..

HPH, ?! What was his response when he learned?

Annette, now surely you've experienced finding new hairs he's grown in new places (or less?) We've got that going on, too. hee!

Sara, ha! The Loop! Yes, that took some getting used to. And the big city of Longview! Wowsers! ;)

Becky, Ha! Shut up! Dude can eat a pumpkin pie in one sitting. That explains it! And Gross!

Annette said...

What? Surely you don't mean the hair that once grew on his head that now grows out of his ears?

Emily said...

You've probably never done the head shaking in agreement or disagreement to him. hahahaha. Made me laugh out load. I could totally see picture him during the whole thing. That's awesome.