"Under Investigation"

One afternoon, when I arrived home from work, I found my husband sitting in a chair in our den, bleeding, bruised, and scraped up from head to toe.

I immediately ran over to him and asked what happened, and was informed that he had been out on our front porch, in his Crocs, watering the ferns and had fallen down the steps....all ten of them, and landed on the concrete walkway at the bottom.

He then informed me that his hip was hurting and he wasn't sure that he could walk. I was very worried about him so I helped him out to the car and drove him to the emergency room at the local hospital.

We were called back to an exam room, not long after our arrival, by a very no nonsense looking nurse. The nurse immediately, with a very minimal amount of words, began taking my husbands vitals, writing down the locations of his wounds, and getting all of the preliminary things done for the doctor before he came in to examine my husband.

Well that was all fine with me. I wasn't there for a deep conversation anyway. I just wanted to make sure that nothing was broken and my husband was going to retain his ability to walk. My husband, however, needs more in the way of conversation and proved this that day when suddenly he looked at the nurse and blurted out "She did this to me".

The room was silent again and all that I could think was seriously??? Did he just actually say that?

I responded in the only way that I could. I looked right at the nurse and I said "Oh no, it wasn't me. I would have done a much better job".

Needless to say, we got no response from nurse Ratched. She just finished her job and left the room.

As soon as she closed the door behind her I looked at my husband and asked him if he was completely insane. I said did you happen to notice that Nurse Ratched was a bit on the serious side? He appeared to be a little to nonchalant about it, so I said What I'm telling you is She'll turn me in for spousal abuse.

He said "I was only joking". I replied with "Well, she wasn't laughing". I told him never to do that again with someone who looks and acts as if they haven't so much as broken a smile in the last two decades.

My husband agreed not to do anything like that again and the doctor came in shortly thereafter. A few x-rays and bandages later we were on our way home.

Fast forward...about one month later...

My husband and I were backing out of the driveway and he stopped to get the mail.
There it was in the mailbox...a letter. The letter was addressed to my husband, and was from an attorney that worked for our health insurance company. Not only was he an attorney for them, he was of the investigative sort. The letter stated that my husband was to call him immediately upon receipt of this letter.

He just couln't imagine what they wanted, but he pulled his cell phone out of his pocked and dialed the number..

Oh Yes.......Nurse Ratched had hooked me up.

He had the speaker on so I could hear his conversation. A woman answered, and when my husband identified himself, she transferred the call in to the attorney. This time a very serious sounding man answered and said that he had a question for my husband about the "incident" in which he had fallen down the stairs.

My husband told him to go ahead with his question and the attorney said..."Mr. Foster, was there a second party involved with your fall?"

My husband with a smirk on his face explained how he had fallen and said that there had not been a second party involved.

Then..it was my turn to blurt out..before I could contain myself I heard my voice saying very loudly, "No there wasn't a second party involvement that day but if he gets hurt again in the very near future you might want to investigate".

My husband quickly got off the phone with the man and I shot him a look that said go ahead..laugh...please laugh....and you will find yourself in the middle of next week as my grandmother would say.

He is a fairly intelligent man so, as you may have guessed, he did not laugh. He began instead to apologize profusely .... I just looked at him and I said Oh you've got jokes...you are a funny funny man...but here's a tip for you...just for safety's sake, and I am talking about yours.... why don't you just err on the side of caution, and not be so funny that I wind up incarcerated.....

He said okay very quickly, and the look on my face was so serious I feel pretty confident that we now have ourselves an understanding...

"A Man And His Shoes"

I have written many times before about the fact that as far as fashion statements go my husband is a hot mess. He is a man with a style all his own, and his unique fashion sense carries itself all the way down to his feet. This man loves himself some shoes...

When I met my husband he was the proud owner of a pair of patchwork boots. Over the course of the two years that we were friends I saw him wear those boots several times.

It wasn't until a couple of years later, when we were dating that I found the words to gently tell him that I thought those boots were the most horrible looking shoes I had ever seen. He seemed extremely shocked, but on the upside I never saw those boots again.

I felt a huge sense of relief when he stopped wearing them because I will tell you that when we went out, they were real attention getters. My relief was short lived, however, because as time went by, and we were married, I began to realize that my husband has an "out of the box" fashion sense especially when it comes to shoes.

Over the years I have seen this manifest itself in the form of everything from the patchwork boots to bowling shoes.

That's right, bowling shoes. This man once wore bowling shoes that he had gotten from somewhere, complete with numbers on the back of the heel to the Superbowl of motor cross in Atlanta. I know that motor cross is not exactly a formal affair, but bowling shoes? Seriously??

The best part is he not only wears them, but "he wears them proud", as my Granny would have said. For example, the night he had the bowling shoes on he noticed a woman in the elevator with him staring at his shoes. He looked right at her and said "ma'am if you'll press 2 for me I'll tell you where you can get a pair of these shoes". I am sure that poor woman was mortified.

Since the bowling shoes there have been many other pairs of shoes that fall into the category of "attention getters". About a year ago he bought himself some Ed Hardy tennis shoes. For those of you who may not have seen these they look like massive tattoos on canvas. Those had to be retired one day, when he came home and declared the market saturated with the Ed Hardy name.

His closet holds many great choices in footwear and he has rocked them all at one time or the other including his shiny patent leather police shoes that were recently brought out of retirement, and worn with black dress socks and shorts to dinner on Thanksgiving day.

Please..just save yourself the effort...don't even try to compile a visual. Without him standing before you it's simply not possible.

I know that my husband is going to continue to have a bit of flair for the "different" when it comes to his shoe choices, and after 27 years of marriage I am finally making an attempt to come to terms with that.

I still don't think that it makes me a bad person if I admit that I have also decided to begin to pray that Heaven will be a barefoot paradise........

"Thanksgiving... On Mama We Do Depend"

Thanksgiving for me is a day of celebrating my family and all of the blessings that we have in our lives. We all gather together and there is much noise, much laughter, much love and great food.

The great food is courtesy of my Mama. My Mama is an amazing cook. She learned everything about making turkey and dressing and all of that from her Mama, My Granny, also an amazing cook.

When my Mama became an adult herself, She was smart enough to realize that She should pay attention to how my Granny made Thanksgiving dinner. My sisters and I haven't had that forethought.....

We sit in the kitchen with my Mama every year sipping coffee, telling stories, laughing and yucking it up, while getting Mama the occasional item here and there, if she needs it, or opening the oven door for her if she's carrying a large dish she needs to slide inside it.

Oh yes, we are her helpers kind and good, but when it comes to cooking the turkey and dressing or gravy or any of that, we couldn't buy a clue..

I tried to gently point out to my sisters, standing there with Mama last year, that we might need to start learning a little bit about the whole Thanksgiving meal preparation process by saying to them "y'all, we need to pay attention to how Mama makes this dressing".

My twin sister just looked at me, suddenly in a state of confusion, and said "what do you mean?"

I said "you know...take a note, get a recipe, learn something..get on the page with this dressing making thing...

Little sister pipes up.."Why? Mama always makes the dressing."

Now, like I said, my Mama was standing there listening to this whole conversation, and I am sure by this point, thinking to herself, Dear Lord, I am not even going to be able to die in peace, because my children will not be able to have a decent Thanksgiving ever again.

Well needless to say, amidst all the confusion that I had created by such a thought, I was forced to put gentle suggestion aside, and just give it to the two of them straight.

I looked right at them and said "Let me simplify it for you.. If we don't learn how to make this dressing and all of this other stuff and God forbid something happens to Mama, you, me, our brothers, children, grandchildren, and spouses are all going to be at the Cracker Barrel."

A hush fell over the room. My Mama just shook her head, and by the time I had all of this explained she had the dressing made and in the pan, so I opened the oven door, and we all kindly agreed with each other that we did need to pay attention in the future.

Feeling sure we had taken care of this matter of most importance we continued to sip our coffee.

I called Mama this year, as I always do, and I said "what do you want me to bring Thursday?". She said "Sharon's (my little sister) making macaroni and cheese, call your sister and y'all bring rolls, tea and ice". I said you don't want me to cook anything? (Hard pause from my Mama)..No that's okay..just tea, ice, and rolls, and call your sister".

As I hung up the phone I was a little surprised that she didn't want me to cook anything at all...I mean I don't think she's ever heard the story about me baking a ham with the plastic on it(I took the big obvious plastic cover off of it, but some idiot thought it would be even better, evidently to put a thin second one on it that was vacuum sealed).

So it was settled..I would just bring what Mama said to bring, but when I got there I'd definitely pay more attention to her cooking, and get more involved. After reaching that decision, I called my sister. I said Mama said for us to bring Ice, tea, and rolls.

My Sister said that She'd get the ice, and I told her I'd get the rest, and so it went....

As I walked into the kitchen where Mama was cooking this past Thursday I saw that I was just in time to open the oven door.....I apologized to my Mama for not knowing more about it all and not being of more help to her. She looked at me and said "I love cooking for y'all. I just really love and enjoy it."

I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her on the cheek and silently thought to myself .... We'd never be able to cook as good as Mama does anyway. Cracker Barrel would definitely be better than I could do....

and who in the world am I, to steal my Mama's joy???

"When All Else Fails Accessorize"

My Husband has been retired now for five months, and he is becoming more of a hot mess with each and every day that passes.

He has done several "great" things to keep himself occupied since his retirement, for instance, painting numerous sample colors on the walls in our house and never actually making a choice and painting.

He is so full of ideas, that when I go to work, it's almost the equivalent of leaving a toddler home alone. The only difference is he can drive, which gives him the ability to go out and get things whenever the spirit moves him, like paint samples for example.

He can also browse the Internet and make purchases which, again, also makes him much more dangerous.

My husband is also "the creator of outfits". I have touched on his wardrobe choices in some of my previous writings, but for those of you who haven't read them let me give you a brief description of a daily ensemble... please keep in mind when you are forming this visual that he hasn't held a razor but once since last May...

T-shirt..old, and weather permitting, no sleeves. This allows a full display all of his arm "ink".

Cargo Shorts...worn solely, I believe, to show off his sock and shoe choices to the fullest.

Soccer socks, vibrant colors and stripes are a must. These are worn pulled up all the way to the knee, or pushed all the way down, depending on the mood of the day...

Shoes vary from Crocs to Ed Hardy...

His entire look when all pulled together says "I am a pure Situation"...

I thought that his look was about as far as he could go to draw attention to himself when we are out.....I was wrong.....

I came home from work the other day and discovered that he had made himself a purchase...In the form of an accessory...He had gotten himself a new pair of glasses.
He was just standing there with them on waiting on me to walk in and experience the wow factor.

Considering he did the purchasing, I probably don't need to tell you that these were not an average looking pair of glasses, so I will jump straight to the description.

He is the proud owner of a pair of black framed glasses...not just ordinary black frames, very large ones..Huge. That's right, I'm talkin' Harry Carey. They are just about the exact same glasses...I know this to be true, because I checked on google images after the shock had worn off.

I just looked at him and said Seriously??? He said "I am serious. I like them." I was stunned into silence.

The overall look of the glasses combined with his fashion sense sent me reeling. He had me feeling for the sofa behind me so that I could sit down. I thought to myself he's finally done it...we can never leave the house together again....

I looked at him again, and I said "Yes sir...When all else fails accessorize". At that point I had no choice but to leave the room. I had to go and soak in a hot bath, because I needed desperately to be alone.

I had to try to fully absorb what I had just seen, and then pray for myself some patience and understanding... and even more importantly... some mercy......

"Date Night, Seriously?"

Recently I have heard many of my friends talking about having "date night" with their spouses. I think that it is wonderful that couples are making time to be alone with each other.

One day last week I decided that I would approach my husband with this idea. I most definitely felt like we could benefit from it. I say this for reasons like the fact that we haven't been to a movie theater since Clinton was president, and I kid you not, when we did go, he skipped a seat between us.

The last time we were out together in a restaurant where they didn't ask if you'd like fries with that was about two years ago, and he was wearing his pajama pants....I'm just saying someone could put forth a little more effort in the romance department.

I had a pretty good idea about what kind of response I was going to get from him, but I just had to try, and... I was so right. He looked right at me and said "Date night? Why do I need to take you out on a date? We've been married for twenty something years." You would have thought I had asked him to bring about world peace.

I could tell immediately that he was both confused and astonished by the fact that some married couples not only do this, but that they actually want to do it. The entire subject was over his load.

I realize that my husband is living in a state of marital bliss. I know this to be true because everything we do revolves around him and his likes and dislikes. He is well taken care of and he is spoiled beyond repair. Given all of this, why in the world would I expect him to be able to grasp the concept of a date night? Pure insanity on my part..I'm so certifiable I should actually be walking around with papers.

A couple of weeks ago, he met some friends of his for lunch, during which time, he decided to seek some form of clarification on this whole date night concept from a males point of view. When I came in from work that day, he told me that he had spoken with them about it. Imagine his surprise when some of them actually said that they have a date night with their spouses.

One of his friends actually gave him suggestions on how to make a date night less painful. One thing that he suggested to my husband was that he plan the night around something that he would actually want to do, and just not let me know what he had done, then we would both be happy.

Evidently this all sounded like to much work for my husband, because he didn't even attempt it. He just waited until I got home from work and told me about the suggestions that he had been given, while wearing a very large grin....

The fact that he told me everything was one big "the brick house just fell in" clue that he had no intention of ever implementing any such plan.

The same friend also told him that a romantic thing to do could be as simple as picking me a flower from the yard on his way in the house.....I have to admit that sounds very sweet, and I would have been very touched by it.

I've long been over the idea that he may actually contact a florist and send flowers..Lord the last time I received roses it was 1982, and we were dating. I called to thank him and told him how beautiful they were, and he said, "I didn't send you flowers."

.. it turns out they were from my stalker..who was later removed from my place of employment by security, and told never to return. This story is just one example of why the rational side of me understands that I will get a flower from the yard when there is a snow cone machine in Hell that is in full operation.

I'm not sure if the problem my husband has is his lack of desire to put forth the effort to be romantic, if he thinks it's a ridiculous waste of energy, or if I just need to hand him a Webster's dictionary with a post-it note on the front that says define romance, so that he will look it up...

Whatever the reason, the bottom line for me is that my date nights are over, and I just need to gain acceptance of that fact...

I'll continue to be grateful that he keeps me laughing and that we have an easy relationship in which we love each other...

....but in the romance department, there are two words that describe my husband, "Train Wreck"...

"Oh Lord... When I Wasn't Looking, They Let Him Retire"

My husband, after working in law enforcement for 27 years, retired approximately one month ago.

Things were going just fine and then it happened...The county he worked for offered an early retirement with no penalties, and the next thing I knew, he was calling me at work to say that he had turned his paperwork in and taken their offer.

He was very pleased with his decision. I could hear it in his voice. I, on the other hand, developed a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach the minute he said it. I felt this way for one reason. He does "great things" when he gets bored.

You see, I already know how dangerous my husband can be when he is given to much free time, and the thought of him having free time until Jesus comes.....well...lets just say it was all I could do not to drop to my knees right then and there to pray for the rapture .

Let me just explain to you that We are talking about a man that once, while out of work following a surgery, had our kitchen wallpaper changed from blue to green, in the exact same pattern, for lack of anything better to do. If you weren't a resident in our home you would never have known, and yet he, in all of his idle time, managed to ascertain that it was well worth the few hundred dollars he spent to have it done.

When I hung up the phone from hearing his big announcement, I felt a little ashamed of myself for having that feeling, so I pushed it to the back of my mind and called him back to say Congratulations, you've earned it, and I am proud of you. I told him I loved him and hung up the phone again.

I did actually feel all of those things that I had said to him, but as his last day on the police force drew nearer my fears began to resurface, and as it turns out, they were quite valid.

In less than 24 hours after he completed his final shift as Lieutenant Foster, he began a new full time job. He became a husband at large/project manager with a side mission to drive his wife completely over the edge...with all work done on a volunteer basis.

He began his first afternoon by wandering into my office, where he quickly discovered that I had left my facebook page up and so he felt compelled to change my status for me. He wrote something like, "I just came in from work and found my husband in the backyard,standing naked on the diving board, eating a taco, and he has written the word retired across his chest with a black sharpie. The neighbor is yelling over the fence at him to put some clothes on, and our minister is at the front door"....Nice right?

He followed up his facebook fun by beginning some "projects around the house. I say projects because there are several, and all in different locations. Now...one month later none of the projects are complete, but he has, however, made great strides in his overall mission to drive me insane..I am well on my way.

He has been making daily trips to places like Lowes, Home Depot, and Ace Hardware. During these said trips he has purchased at least 20 samples of paint which he has applied in various places throughout the house, including the hallway, guest bathroom, and garage.

The garage wall now has about six different squares of color samples painted on it. When my husband asked me the other day for my opinion, I just looked at him and said..."I say you keep going to Lowes and buying paint samples and go with patchwork..I'm over it".

I also have to add that my husband has never been big on painting. He had a plan to hire someone to do it all for him, after his color decisions were made, but I told him that I had painted in the past many times, and that we could do it together.

I thought I had him convinced, but then he painted the vanity in the guest bath last night..that was all she wrote..he came out and said that he was not going to be able to paint after all, because his shoulder was killing him.

I said to him that I knew he had a shoulder issue, so he could just sit on the floor and paint a few inches up from the baseboards ..the trim work ...oh no..he wasn't hearing that..so the situation now was that there were several different colors painted all over the walls in different rooms, and he had just declared himself physically unable to do the job.....Wonderful! Perfect!

At that moment I did what every good christian that doesn't want to break one of God's commandments would have done...I stopped and prayed for the Lord not to let me kill him.

He's had many other activities going on other than trying to make his paint color decisions. He's had men out to the house giving him estimates on some other things he wants done. He's taken down mirrors, light fixtures, changed door knobs, you name it, he's done it, or spent time thinking about doing it.

Things in several parts of our home are now works in progress...he's like a toddler on a rampage....and I know I'm going to spend a huge part of the rest of my summer vacation seeing his "projects" through to completion.

I cannot, to save his life, or my sanity , get this man to focus on one thing at a time. I do appreciate his hard work and ideas. After all, he does have some good ideas. I also have the ability to recognize that it's hard work taking mirrors and lights and things down leaving gaping holes in the walls....not to mention all of the sample paint squares he's had to apply in various locations. Yes sir there is no doubt about it, this man has been working hard...

I just desperately wish he'd try keeping his work a bit more contained to one area at a time...Maybe if he actually had the ability to define the word focus...but no his mind spins at the rate of a roulette wheel...it's like what project can I start next....place your bets, place your bets...

I have spent the last 27 years, while he was on the police force, praying for his safety. I thought that when he retired I'd be able to stop doing that. I was wrong....

Now, I not only have to pray for his safety, I also have to pray for the Lord to grant me enough patience to keep me off the news.....

"Bless Her Heart"

I was thinking today that we Southern women have tempers just like everyone else. I was also thinking that when we do get mad and decide to say something to another person, who has caused us to find ourselves in such a state, we attempt to do so politely. We were, after all, taught to always use our manners.

I will give you a few examples. A woman who isn't from the south might just yell and scream, if she gets mad, but not us. We would say something to let others know we're not happy with them and follow it up with "bless your heart"...

Example: "Honey You're about to be "taken out on the veranda" and you haven't the slightest clue what's coming, bless your heart." A trip out onto the veranda means you're about to get a verbal tongue lashing like you haven't ever heard. I'm talking about a lecture so intense we may not even pause to breathe during it's delivery. These are given when it becomes necessary to "set someone straight", so to speak.

Bless your heart is also used at other times, such as when a group of women are talking about one particular person that they have a strong dislike for. I say dislike because we never say we hate someone. We say we dislike them, or that we don't particularly care for them..

Example: If a woman was acting as if she thought she was better than the other ladies, they might say something like "Her nose is so high in the air, if it rains she'll drowned, bless her heart." The added statement of bless your heart making it sound as if we are expressing concern for her well being.

.. or maybe we might start with Bless her heart and say something like; "Bless her heart, look at that dress, her taste is all in her mouth".

Sometimes it's even simpler and more direct than that, like..."She's such a miserable witch, bless her heart". Bless her heart, in this case, enabling any listeners to have the slightest doubt about whether or not the fact that she is a witch is entirely her fault..almost as if the poor thing may not be able help the way she acts.

This phrase is so wonderful and versatile it even works in the middle of a sentence.
Example: "She can't help it, bless her heart, she's just straight crazy."

I do have to mention that this phrase is also commonly used when we are expressing sympathy for a person. It makes sympathy, when given, seem even more sincere, and when we are speaking about someone in a derogatory manner, it does take the edge right off of rude and nasty, doesn't it?

I have certainly said my share of bless your hearts when I've gotten upset or had a dislike for someone, and I will tell you, that I've had people walk away from me so confused they aren't sure if they can't stand me, or want to come back for tea one afternoon...

"Boys Will Be Boys"

My granddaughter spends the night with me one or two times a week, and I take her to school on my way to work. She is six years old, and in the first grade. We always have conversations about how things are going in her life during our morning commute.

She tells me about everything from her parents and little brother, to her teacher and the other students in her class. We talk about things like fashion and academics, and sometimes even boys. I think that she feels very comfortable talking to me, and I love that. I am her Mimi, and that's how our relationship should be.

She tells me about some of the students having to "pull their cards", because they don't know how to behave. She also told me that she has never pulled a card, and she thinks that those who do pull them just don't want to learn. She told me that she loves school, but that some of her friends act like they hate it.

The conversations about things like "pulling cards" are the easy ones, but every now and then she'll say something that requires a little more thought on my part. That is exactly what happened one day last week.

We were riding along talking about her Dolce and Gabana Sunglasses, when all of the sudden, she said "Zach(not his real name)wants me to audition for him for American Idol."

She said "Not for real or anything, just pretend". I said "really". She said "Yes. He wants me to do it during recess." Then she said "He said I have to dance for him when I sing, because you have to dance and sing when you are a on American Idol."

Well that did it...I instantly became internally unglued. The nerve of this kid, asking my granddaughter to dance for him. I mean, who knows what he's seen on TV, or at home for that matter. There are poles on playgrounds for God's sake.

I had a few thoughts, none of which I could share with her, but some of which I will share here with you...

1. Not while I have a breath in my body will you be dancing "for" some boy during recess, or at any other time in your life.

2. Zach doesn't even know how to recognize that type of girl yet.

3. Zach is six years old and if he did see a girl who would dance for him, he doesn't have a job, money, or a clue on how to fold it..

4. Zach is most definitely headed for reform school.

After nearly running completely off the road and having to regain a steady heart rhythm, I told her simply that I didn't think that "auditioning" for Zach was a good idea at all. She instantly wanted to know why, and so I just told her that she is an amazing singer, and that she didn't need some silly little boy to verify that.

Then, remembering another conversation we had earlier in the year about a little girl in her class, (I'll call her Hope) saying that a little boy named Joe was "sexy", I said Maybe he can get Hope to audition for him.

She didn't understand my suggestion about Hope, but I had to let go with a little sarcasm somewhere. I needed the release.... I then told her that either way she wasn't to do it, and she assured me that she wouldn't.

As we pulled up in the car line at her school, I wished her a great day, told her that I loved her, and bit my tongue to keep from yelling at her little back "stay away from Zach and Hope", as she got out and walked inside.

As I drove away I couldn't help but wonder if Zach was just another example of kids growing up to fast these days, or if this was just a simple case of "boys will be boys".....

Either way, I'm just glad I had the opportunity to talk to my granddaughter about it all, before that little Hugh Hefner wannabe's first round of "auditions" began...

Lord have mercy on a Grandmother....

"Suitcase"

My husband and I watched an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond that was about a suitcase sitting on the staircase of their home. Debra, the wife, wanted Raymond, the husband, to take it upstairs.

She felt as if she did everything as far as work in the house went, and the least he could do was bring the heavy suitcase, that he had used, upstairs, and so the stand off began.

I am telling you all of this so that you can understand what has been going on in my house lately.

My husband works nights and I work days, therefore, we sleep on different shifts. When I wake up the bed linens are still intact, but every afternoon when he wakes up the top sheet is completely off the bed.

A couple of weeks ago I came in and saw the sheet up in the bed in a pile and made an announcement. I said that I was sick and tired of having to put that sheet back on the bed because he rips it off everyday so that his feet can remain uncovered...

I said "I have asked you again and again to just stick your feet out from the side of the sheet like everyone else who wants their feet uncovered while they sleep, but you just can't seem to get on board with that idea"...

I told him that he obviously hated the sheet and that was fine. The next thing I did was pick it up and drop it on the bench that sits at the foot of our bed. I said "You win...No More top sheet, because I'm not putting it back on the bed EVER!!" (This was quite a big deal for me because I do love the feel of the sheets on my bed) I then looked at him and said "We've got ourselves a suitcase!"

Well he just grinned like it was all cute because he was thinking that I would cool down and make the bed later that evening. It's what I normally do. Well ...not this time. It was hard at first, but day after day I looked at that sheet and kept right on moving. When I washed the sheets I just folded that one and right back on the bench it went..after that, I didn't touch it.

Finally one evening he said to me "Victoria (our granddaughter) is spending the night tonight so you're going to have to put the sheet back on the bed".

Well...That just flew all over me. "Going to have to"? I looked at him and I said "are you serious right now?" As usual he was still grinning...I said only one word after that ...."SUITCASE"...

Finally one afternoon I came in and he was standing there as proud of himself as a four year old boy would be who had just cleaned his room. He said "I put the sheet back on the bed"...

I was thinking at that moment that I knew if I waited long enough his obessive compulsive disorder which causes his strong need to have everything in it's place would wear him down, but what I said was congratulations, that's great. I am glad that you took care of it.

Then as I turned to leave the room, I said by the way, about all of those wet towels on our bathroom floor... go in and take a look at them. You should recognize them, because that's exactly who they belong to, you....

I left him with a parting shot..."Suitcase"...when I came back into the bathroom later that same night the towels were all gone from the floor......

No more suitcases at my house for now... It seems, for the time being at least, my husband is traveling light......

"Clarification Will Come To Those Who Continue To Ask For It"

Let me begin by saying that I realize I write quite a bit about my husband, but with him being such a fountain of material, what can I do? That being said, I just had to share the following story:

There was a small ditch at the bottom of the driveway where the mailbox is located at our previous house. The driveway itself went up a hill and had a slight curve to it. I backed out of it numerous times without a problem. Occasionally, however, I went off the side of the driveway, at the bottom, and dug the grass up as I was leaving.

I had done this about two or three times when my mother-in-law came to visit, and it happened to her, but on a larger scale. She not only went off the driveway, she got stuck, and hit the mailbox, causing a good bit of damage to her car.

My husband, as you may have guessed, had no questions for his mother as to how it happened. Not one, not even while they were waiting on the police officer to come and fill out an accident report for the insurance company.

Each time it happened to me, however, even though my incidents only involved the grass, he was full of questions. He treated me as if he were back in the Criminal Investigation Division at work, and he was going to get answers if he had to turn on the bright light.

The questions he wanted answered were things like "How?", or the longer version, "How in the world did you manage to go off of the driveway and tear the yard up?" He would ask me these questions again and again.

Talking to him after I had been "in the ditch" so to speak, was like a very serious interrogation. He would ask the questions with a look on his face that was a mixture of confusion and stunned disbelief that seemed to beg for clarity.

The questions, however, were not my favorite of all of the things that he would have to say to me. My favorite always came in the form of a statement. He would just look at me and repeatedly say "I don't understand. I just don't understand how you manage it".

Well, then it happened... One night after he had gone out the door for work I was walking back through the house locking the doors, and as I came through the living room to check the front door I saw him through the window. He was in the ditch... and it gets better..it had been raining!

As my smile began to grow, I realized that I was holding my cell phone. Oh yes..you guessed it... I couldn't dial his number fast enough. I continued to watch the tires spin in the mud, and the truck get deeper in the ditch as I dialed.

My husband answered his phone with a tone that seemed a little irritated, so I had no choice, but to offer him some assistance. I asked him,in my most polite voice, "Do you need some help?". He responded with a very curt "No, I do not Arlene",at which point I believe he hung up on me, I just haven't been able to prove it.

At any rate, I continued to watch him out the window, and then my phone rang. It was him calling me back, and by this time I had gone from a large smile to laughing out loud. Needless to say, I had to just about sever my tongue off with my teeth to get it together long enough to answer his call.

Did I say hello? No, I did not. I said in a very serious tone.... "I guess it's crystal clear now isn't Lieutenant?".

Well, needless to say, his mood was no longer questionable. He was livid. He immediately shouted into the phone. "Can someone please come down here and hold the Da@# mailbox away from the passenger's side of the truck so that I can back up?", and then silence...another dropped call I suppose, again, no proof.

It wasn't rocket science for me to ascertain that I should probably remain inside, so I sent my Son-in-law to try and help him. This struggle went on for quite a few minutes until finally one of the neighbors saw the situation and used his truck to tow my husband out of the ditch. He left for work without ever coming back inside the house.

You would think that watching him go through all of that would have been enough for me... but I just couldn't let it go...

I called another officer, that we are friends with, and asked him if he could do me a favor. He said "sure, what do you need?". I said could you just write Steve a warning ticket for improper backing and leave it on his desk? Then I told him the story and we were both laughing.

When my husband got to work our friend did ask him if he had a hard time getting there that night, and my husband, not knowing, of course, that I had called ahead, said that he had not. The next question he got was, "what's the story on all of the mud on your shoes?". I feel sure that he had to share what happened after that last question, and I know he must have loved doing it.

To be perfectly honest with you, I am just so grateful that my husband got to have that whole experience. I mean I wouldn't have wanted him to have gone through the rest of his life not understanding the whole "stuck in a ditch" concept, especially since I know that being so confused about how something like that could happen had been so stressful and frustrating for him.

Being in the dark like that really hadn't been good for his blood pressure, and I am sure that he is a healthier man for having received clarity that night.

Yes, I just have to say that I'm very happy that all of his questions have been answered, and his confusion cleared up. Now, he is free to move on to trying to solve another one of life's big mysteries....