• My life in song

    She had no idea she was making a mistake. I’m unpredictable that way. You never know what will set me off.

    We were watching something on the TV and Cheryl asked, “where have I seen her before?” Not missing a beat, I whipped up a brilliant song about IMDB… set to the music of YMCA. I even threw in the arm spasms… I mean letters. It’s my one true gift, the thing that sets me apart, makes me special.

    “Yeah, you’re ‘special’ alright.” she says.

    I doesn’t sound sincere though.

  • Clutch driving!

    First of all, I want to say it was all my fault. My daddy didn’t raise no lazy pedal pusher. No sir! I was taught right! I was raised in the old school, learning the art of clutch-shift-gas-engage. My first car had a five speed, manual transmission – as every car I’ve had since. I went WAY old school when the synchronizer for second gear went on my ’77 Civic – exposing me to the way of the double-clutch.**

    WAY!

    No, it was all my lazy foot’s fault.

    I stalled in traffic.

    Oh, the humanity!

    I don’t claim to be a great driver, but I’m pretty good in the clutch. I’m smooth as a gravy sandwich (said in an Aussie accent). I drive with pride, but today knocked me down a notch. Neither hill nor speed nor stop-and-go kept me from the true path – until today. I can’t remember the last time I suffered the indignity of turning my key surrounded by idling engines.

    Please, don’t tell my daddy. I couldn’t live with the shame.

    **And now for a moment of honesty: most of the time I wound out first gear, much to my passenger’s delight, and went straight to third.

  • With these rings

    I’m almost sure I’m revisiting this topic, but it’s a worthy subject.

    What? You don’t believe me?

    The other day Cheryl was talking to someone about her grandmother’s wedding ring. Cheryl wears it on the “other hand,” in addition to her own, which she wears on her “right hand,” which of course is her left. I had a little too much fun writing that sentence.

    “Is that the first one?” someone asked. It was (is) her grandmother’s first – but only if you accept the premise of subsequent wedding rings. Later it was revealed her cousin had “the other wedding ring.”

    Now, in case you haven’t noticed, I can be the ornery sort. Once I get something in my head and circle the logic wagons, I can be pretty dern’ stubborn. The first thing that came to mind was, “what? Was she married to someone else later who I don’t know about?” I knew she hadn’t. (I’m a big fan of rhetorical questions, as long as I’m doing the asking.) It was spontaneous sarcasm – which can be remarkably similar to sponateous combustion when used in the wrong setting. Luckily, I kept my first thought to myself. My second thought was simple.

    “No.”

    “What was that John?”

    “No. There is no ‘other’ wedding ring. There’s one wedding ring – the one when you get married. There’s one ring that represents the commitment, trust, and love of marriage. Everything else is just jewelry.”

    “But the other one was blessed….” someone replied.

    And that’s when I upped the rhetorical ante.

    “I don’t care if you put it in your mouth and sucked on it like a Lifesaver, it’s still not a wedding ring.”

    God, I loved that line when it left my lips. Who am I kidding. I still love it. I’m so proud. My problem started when no one else at the table was nearly as impressed, including my mate. A good line deserves a chuckle, or at least a grin. I got nothing. No snorts, exagerated breaths, or changes of facial expression.

    How do you spell trouble? In my case, there are times when it can’t be spelled.

    Maybe I’m a sentimental fool, or just plain too poor to keep my wife properly bejeweled, but surely I’m not the only one. Why bother with ceremony? Why bother observing the sacrament, believing in the real presence of your creator in the crowd, if your just going to upgrade the one durable/tangible symbol of it all when you get your first big bonus check at work? Does symbolism or sentiment have any value, or are we just plain vain?

    Maybe you believe marriage is overrated, and that’s fair. Maybe I’m placing too much value in a thing, when the real prize is my wife. My ring may be plain, but it’s something my wife gave me on one of the most important days of my life. I’ll no sooner replace it than my wife.

    My, what a high horse I have, eh? I could go on and on… but I’d have to get another shovel. I’ve just about worn this one down to the handle.