My husband retired from the DeKalb County Police Department about a year and a half ago. I had no idea once this happened that not only his fashion sense would run wilder than usual, but he had also made two choices:
1. Retire
2. Never utilize a razor again.
For our entire marriage, up until his retirement, he was a police officer, and so he was always clean shaven and kept his hair cut. Well much to my surprise when the job went so did his self-maintenance.
Now he has grown himself a beard that is an unbelievable mess. I don't mean he has a beard which he trims and keeps neat that I just don't care for, I literally mean the man no longer picks up a razor, period. He looks atrocious. The clothes he chooses combined with the Grizzly Adams facial hair are killing me......
One of his fine ensembles from the other night included a t-shirt, khaki shorts that are worn out, complete with several holes (Even though he owns a dozen pair of perfectly good ones.), a pair of bright colored soccer socks pulled all the way up to the knees, with some random tennis shoes in a bright color. Now combine that with the long hair and a beard gone wild and try to assemble yourself a visual.
When he was about to go out the door and into the public one afternoon, I stopped him and said "Can I ask you something?". He said "sure". I said "Are you in the witness protection program?, Because if you are I just want to say good job on the disguise!! You look nothing at all like the man I married, as a matter of a fact I wouldn't even go on a date with you."
He just sort of chuckled at me, and I said No, I'm serious, because the only reason I could imagine you wanting to walk around looking the way you do right now would be to save your own life....he went right out the door..
It has gotten so bad that one afternoon when we stopped for gas and he went inside to pay and get a drink, he was counting out change for the tax and because of the way he looked the store owner offered to let him wash the windows for money....
I mean have you ever? I can not believe that as handsome as he is, he'd rather present himself in public looking as though, for lack of a better phrase, he has been "dug up!" I actually had a friend, after seeing a recent picture of my husband, comment that his new "look" was grounds for divorce.
I have pleaded with him over and over again to shave and get a hair cut, and I always get the same response: "I have shaved every day for almost 30 years and I'm tired of it." I finally told him that I am getting scared, to which he replied, scared of what? I said scared that the primitive caveman look you've got going will cause you to regress to a point where I will have to take matters into my own hands.
He looked at me very seriously and said "What do you mean?" I said, I mean I am scared there will come a time when I am going to have to shave you down and teach you to speak because your brain will have made contact with your new look in a random mirror somewhere, and so as to unite the two(the brain and the look), you will be reduced to making guttural noises.
None of this seems to shake my husbands resolve about the whole matter. He is somewhat like a defiant teenager about it all. At this point, when he can't find something I probably need to remind him to check his beard....Lost keys? Wallet? Check that beard...it could hide any number of things.
I'm not even asking that he take the beard off completely...I mean can I just get a trim..take a brush to it..and maybe he could just once wear two articles of clothing at one time that actually match...
Lord have mercy I am so over it all. He seriously looks so bad that I have refused to kiss him again until he shaves or Jesus comes...
He really leaves me no choice. I am just going to have to contact Carson Kressley and plead for a Queer Eye For The Straight Guy reunion......
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Marabou Madness
When my twin sister and I were little we shared a bedroom, and of course, the closet, and for the most part we managed to get along famously.
We always kept our room clean, toys put away, and bed made. We also shared a bed which we always made together. She would get on her side and I would get on mine and we'd have that bed made in no time. That is as long as she was ready to do it.
You see...We had slightly different ideas on when we should get this accomplished. I was of the opinion that we should do it as soon as we woke up, so as to "get it over with", she , on the other hand, wanted to do it when the spirit moved her to do so.
This is where my story really begins...
One morning I was trying to convince my sister to make the bed when I wanted to, and as usual, she didn't seem willing to get on the page, so to speak. Now, as a general rule I have a very calm and peaceful personality, and I had never fought or argued with any of my siblings.
On this particular morning, however, when she kept on and on refusing to help me, it was suddenly as if my body had been possessed by the Wicked Witch of the West. I came unglued.
On top of our chest of drawers was a little ceramic kettle shaped dish. It had Tiffany blue marabou running around its entire opening, and inside it I kept my rings and earrings. When my sister repeatedly refused to help me I suddenly snatched that little kettle up, dumped my jewelry out of it, and hummed it at her. I used the word hummed because I didn't just throw it. I threw it with full force. I threw it with every ounce of strength an 8 year old little girl could muster. I mean it was raining marabou.
It hit the wall right above her head just as she was ducking down to avoid stitches. It made a loud crashing sound as it hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. I stood there in shock at the fact that I had actually thrown it. As my brain began to function again I had only one thought she is going to kill me....
That thought was interupted when I heard the click of the intercom in our room that signaled someone was about to speak to us, I wanted it to be God forming an intervention to save my life , but, my gut feeling told me it was going to be my Mama. My instincts were spot on.
She said "Girls, is everything alright in there?". Well don't you just know that I piped up immediately with what I hoped was a very convincing yes ma'am. unfortunately, for me, my sister didn't feel as good about things as I did. She began to scream at the top of her lungs that I was trying to kill her and that she needed help.
Needless to say the intercom conversation was over. Before I could blink Mama had appeared in the flesh, and to tell you the truth she didn't look all that happy.
Before she could even begin her questioning about the broken glass and it's origin, I turned on the tears and lots of them. Between sobs, I began to explain to Mama that I had no idea what had come over me. I said that my sister wouldn't help me with the bed and that before I even knew what I was doing I had hurled the little dish at her.
I just felt sure, since I never got into trouble, she would believe the whole thing and that I'd get off with a warning. What I wasn't counting on was that Mama had already gone all Dick Tracy on the situation. You see...she had already completed her review of the evidence that was before her and she said....
"You knew exactly what you were doing. and you had time to think about it!". I assured her that I hadn't given it a bit of thought, and that's when she caught me up short. She said "Yes..You did. I know that you did because you had the forethought to dump your jewelry out of the dish before you threw it at her."
I just looked at her, and for the second time that morning , I was in shock. That's when I had my second thought...my murder was going to be a team effort...they were both going to kill me. I was horrified of getting in trouble, because I had never been in trouble before, so my thoughts at that point were extreme.
The first thing Mama did was tell my sister to leave the room. She did stand between us as my sister made her exit, which I was very grateful for. My thoughts had changed slightly at that point and were more along the lines of ... good Lord she is going to kill me, and she's going to do it alone and without witnesses.
The truth is she had taken my record of good behavior into account. She was going to let me off easy, but she didn't want my sister to know that, especially with the offense being attempted murder and all...
When all was said and done, I had to clean up the mess, apologize to my sister, and promise my Mama that I would never do anything like that again. When I had done all of the above, I was left in my room to "think about what I had done"...
My Mama knew exacty what she was doing because in the silence of that room my conscience went all Jiminey Cricket on me, and I felt soooo guilty I could hardly stand it.... I don't think I could have felt more ashamed of myself if I had killed her.
I also suffered in a way that my Mama and sister knew nothing about. I went through a grieving period for my Marabou dish....I suffered in silence...it being my fault that it got broken and all, but it was suffering just the same...
Honestly.... I still love myself some Marabou........
That was about 40 years ago and I've never thrown another thing.....
I would love to tell you that I haven't even thought about it, but lying is in the top ten rules of things not to do ......
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We always kept our room clean, toys put away, and bed made. We also shared a bed which we always made together. She would get on her side and I would get on mine and we'd have that bed made in no time. That is as long as she was ready to do it.
You see...We had slightly different ideas on when we should get this accomplished. I was of the opinion that we should do it as soon as we woke up, so as to "get it over with", she , on the other hand, wanted to do it when the spirit moved her to do so.
This is where my story really begins...
One morning I was trying to convince my sister to make the bed when I wanted to, and as usual, she didn't seem willing to get on the page, so to speak. Now, as a general rule I have a very calm and peaceful personality, and I had never fought or argued with any of my siblings.
On this particular morning, however, when she kept on and on refusing to help me, it was suddenly as if my body had been possessed by the Wicked Witch of the West. I came unglued.
On top of our chest of drawers was a little ceramic kettle shaped dish. It had Tiffany blue marabou running around its entire opening, and inside it I kept my rings and earrings. When my sister repeatedly refused to help me I suddenly snatched that little kettle up, dumped my jewelry out of it, and hummed it at her. I used the word hummed because I didn't just throw it. I threw it with full force. I threw it with every ounce of strength an 8 year old little girl could muster. I mean it was raining marabou.
It hit the wall right above her head just as she was ducking down to avoid stitches. It made a loud crashing sound as it hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. I stood there in shock at the fact that I had actually thrown it. As my brain began to function again I had only one thought she is going to kill me....
That thought was interupted when I heard the click of the intercom in our room that signaled someone was about to speak to us, I wanted it to be God forming an intervention to save my life , but, my gut feeling told me it was going to be my Mama. My instincts were spot on.
She said "Girls, is everything alright in there?". Well don't you just know that I piped up immediately with what I hoped was a very convincing yes ma'am. unfortunately, for me, my sister didn't feel as good about things as I did. She began to scream at the top of her lungs that I was trying to kill her and that she needed help.
Needless to say the intercom conversation was over. Before I could blink Mama had appeared in the flesh, and to tell you the truth she didn't look all that happy.
Before she could even begin her questioning about the broken glass and it's origin, I turned on the tears and lots of them. Between sobs, I began to explain to Mama that I had no idea what had come over me. I said that my sister wouldn't help me with the bed and that before I even knew what I was doing I had hurled the little dish at her.
I just felt sure, since I never got into trouble, she would believe the whole thing and that I'd get off with a warning. What I wasn't counting on was that Mama had already gone all Dick Tracy on the situation. You see...she had already completed her review of the evidence that was before her and she said....
"You knew exactly what you were doing. and you had time to think about it!". I assured her that I hadn't given it a bit of thought, and that's when she caught me up short. She said "Yes..You did. I know that you did because you had the forethought to dump your jewelry out of the dish before you threw it at her."
I just looked at her, and for the second time that morning , I was in shock. That's when I had my second thought...my murder was going to be a team effort...they were both going to kill me. I was horrified of getting in trouble, because I had never been in trouble before, so my thoughts at that point were extreme.
The first thing Mama did was tell my sister to leave the room. She did stand between us as my sister made her exit, which I was very grateful for. My thoughts had changed slightly at that point and were more along the lines of ... good Lord she is going to kill me, and she's going to do it alone and without witnesses.
The truth is she had taken my record of good behavior into account. She was going to let me off easy, but she didn't want my sister to know that, especially with the offense being attempted murder and all...
When all was said and done, I had to clean up the mess, apologize to my sister, and promise my Mama that I would never do anything like that again. When I had done all of the above, I was left in my room to "think about what I had done"...
My Mama knew exacty what she was doing because in the silence of that room my conscience went all Jiminey Cricket on me, and I felt soooo guilty I could hardly stand it.... I don't think I could have felt more ashamed of myself if I had killed her.
I also suffered in a way that my Mama and sister knew nothing about. I went through a grieving period for my Marabou dish....I suffered in silence...it being my fault that it got broken and all, but it was suffering just the same...
Honestly.... I still love myself some Marabou........
That was about 40 years ago and I've never thrown another thing.....
I would love to tell you that I haven't even thought about it, but lying is in the top ten rules of things not to do ......
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