When I'm Sixty-Four

After church last Sunday, Travis said, "You looked really nice today."

"Thanks!"

"You don't look thirty."

"Oh? How old do I look?"

He studies me for a minute ...

"I'd say 25."

"Oh. Cool."

"Well, actually probably 26."

"There's a difference between looking 25 and looking 26?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"I don't know, it's just different."

I shouldn't be surprised at the splitting of hairs by a man who calls me from the bus to tell me to pick him up at about 6:42, but I always like to hear the thought process that runs through his head. However, when I'm sixty-four, he'd better tell me I look like I'm forty-seven and not fifty.

Helmet Head

One year I asked Travis what he wanted for Christmas.

"A helmet."

"Oh. Are you going to start riding your bike?"

"No."

"Oh. Why do you need a helmet?"

"To protect my head."

"From ..."

"Stuff."

"So you'll wear this helmet when?"

"All the time."

Earplugs

My dad is an earplug fanatic, in the sense that he buys huge boxes full of hundreds of pairs of earplugs. He uses them every night (so he doesn't have to hear himself snore, I think) and always offers them to others. I can't stand the things, but Travis took him up on it one night.

Now, Travis doesn't hear me at least half the time I talk to him (and then complains I don't talk enough), so I didn't find it too unusual at first that I had to repeat myself a lot over the next few days, but the issue came to a head when I asked him the same question several times, loudly, in the car. I resorted to poking him in the shoulder violently to get his attention, at which point he pulls earplugs from his ears and asks,

"Did you say something?"

Telling It Like It Is

Travis doesn't believe this, but I am remarkably resilient when it comes to potentially hurtful comments. For instance, I could have easily taken offense when he looked up at me from the computer just now and said, matter-of-factly, "You look like hell right now." I said, "Yeah, I do." Because, yeah, I do.

Items Of Business

Here's a list I found that Travis made during Sunday School the weekend I was gone:

- Toss all too small Abby shoes
- No eating in Abby's bedroom
- Security in limits/boundaries
- Lost my church key :)
- Their faith started before coming to Earth
- No such thing as unlawful censorship; think about what to bring into a home

The Grass Is Greener ....?

We currently have a lot of weeds in our yard, due to very little upkeep, while our neighbor Don spends his free time doing yard work (apparently some people enjoy weeding and mowing so much that they choose spend two hours a day doing it. Good for them.).  His yard is BEAUTIFUL. As we're pulling out of the driveway today, Travis says,

"Well, that's why we have so many weeds in our yard. The grass is too short."

 "The grass is almost 18 inches high."

"No, his grass is too short. It upsets the balance."

I had no words for this.

"When he cuts his grass too short, it pushes all the weeds into our yard."

Again, silence.

Life In The Twilight Zone

Travis came home for work and I told him I wanted him to come to a movie with me, but we had to leave right then. He wasn't really in the mood for it, apparently, and asked what kind of movie it was.

"A thriller."

He grimaces. "Is there anything else at that theater?"

"Uhhhhhhh, Hot Tub Time Machine? No."

"Couldn't you just pick something up at Redbox and we'll watch it?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know, a romantic comedy would be good."

Yes, that's right. My husband unabashedly prefers romantic comedies to thrillers.

The Trump Card

Conversation

Travis: "You're way more irrational than I am."

Elizabeth: "I'm irrational? You're irrational."

T: "Name a specific time I was irrational."

E. "You name a time when I was irrational!"

T: "I don't remember; I just have a general sense of overwhelming irrationality on your part."

E: "So ... all those times I tell you you said something and you claim you didn't and then you get mad and tell me I'm the one with the bad memory because I tell you you have a terrible memory are, in fact, invalid? Because now you're claiming to have a bad memory to cover yourself."

T: "No -- I know you're less rational. I'm the most objective person I know."

A Day in the Life

Travis has a fairly firm life philosophy: calories are good for you; butter should be the staple of your diet (not implied: he has actually stated this emphatically several times); you should never eat ConAgra food products (pretty much anything you eat is ConAgra. I ignore this, as I refuse to grow my own grains. I also ignore the rest of it.); exercise should consist mainly of weight-bearing exercises; you should not turn on your lights. So, when I walked into the kitchen the other day, it wasn't actually a huge shock to find him doing lunges with three cookies in his hands, half of one in his mouth. In the dark.

What Is Courage?

Last night, as I talked to my friend Megen on the phone, my husband plopped down on the couch across from me and munched on an apple, looking through the window (the curtain was closed, mind you) in rapt awe of ... something. Who knows. We were talking about something mundane, maybe my kids or her second-grade class, when Travis, still looking off into the distance several minutes later, stopped chewing on his apple and looked blankly at me, declaring, "All courage is vanity." Then he wandered off. I giggled and relayed the message to Megen, who, having known Travis for years, said, "Do you ever write this stuff down? You need to write this stuff down." I agreed, and so a blog is born.