My wife didn't like turning 30 or being 30. It was a long year. But towards the end, she seemed to lighten up about it. One day, she approached me with a big smile on her face and referenced an old joke.
Wife: So, when I'm 40, are you going to trade me in for two 20s?
Me: How can you ask me that? You know my second wife hasn't been born yet!
I got hit.
She was joking (I thought), I was joking, and I get in trouble. It's not fair I tell ya! :)
Enjoy the weekend folks, see you in October--one of the year's best months!
Friday, September 28, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Stranger in a strange land
What is this place? What is a b-l-o-g???
No, I haven't lost my memory (although I wouldn't mind forgetting some of my stinky-er posts). It's just that it's been so long since I posted, I feel out of place--and I don't have anything interesting to share. So instead I thought I'd give you (even) more insight into what my poor wife has to put up with. Among other things, she has to put up with me saying crazy things at times, just to break up the day and hopefully give someone a smile. Here's a recent example.
My wife tells stories about my life to her co-workers on a regular basis. Later she'll share their reactions. Often, just out of the blue several weeks later, one of her co-workers will ask a question or make a comment related to one of the stories. Then we'll have a brief conversation like this one.
Wife: Joe asked how many times you've had a gun pointed at you.
Me: *after thinking for a moment* Including family???
She usually laughs, shakes her head and then I give her a real answer.
This may be the first of a "Life with Ricademus" series. I just need to remember to write things down after I say them. Then, when I'm having trouble coming up with a real post, I can embarrass myself by oversharing more comments like the one above.
Bad idea???
No, I haven't lost my memory (although I wouldn't mind forgetting some of my stinky-er posts). It's just that it's been so long since I posted, I feel out of place--and I don't have anything interesting to share. So instead I thought I'd give you (even) more insight into what my poor wife has to put up with. Among other things, she has to put up with me saying crazy things at times, just to break up the day and hopefully give someone a smile. Here's a recent example.
My wife tells stories about my life to her co-workers on a regular basis. Later she'll share their reactions. Often, just out of the blue several weeks later, one of her co-workers will ask a question or make a comment related to one of the stories. Then we'll have a brief conversation like this one.
Wife: Joe asked how many times you've had a gun pointed at you.
Me: *after thinking for a moment* Including family???
She usually laughs, shakes her head and then I give her a real answer.
This may be the first of a "Life with Ricademus" series. I just need to remember to write things down after I say them. Then, when I'm having trouble coming up with a real post, I can embarrass myself by oversharing more comments like the one above.
Bad idea???
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Aww, Shucks!
I had corn on the cob over the weekend. It's one of my favorite things about summer and it reminded me of summers past. I've mentioned my dad grew up on a small farm. While I was growing up, he and his siblings leased the fields out to a local farmer. As rent, the farmer paid the property taxes and planted a section of "sweet corn" for us (as opposed to the "field corn" he grew to sell).
Every August we made a special trip (or three) to the farm to pick corn. Usually it was a Saturday evening, after a day full of chores. By the time I was 11, I knew to take a long-sleeve shirt along to wear in the field. It was too hot for long sleeves, but the stems sticking out from the stalk were very itchy on my skin--and occasionally the edges of them caused what felt like paper cuts. We'd work until dark, sometimes a little beyond that.
On the way home we'd stop at the homes of various friends and give them each a paper bag full of fresh-picked corn. After church on Sunday morning we (but honestly, mostly me) would sit in the shade, shucking corn for HOURS. My mom and sisters stayed busy in the kitchen, blanching the shucked ears of corn and bagging them to be frozen.
It's a nice memory, but my favorite part is that each year I exasperated my dad. He preferred younger, more tender ears of corn. Each year he'd show me one and each year get annoyed when I'd go on to pick an assortment of younger and more developed ears. He'd remind me he didn't like the older ears and say I would have to eat them. And I'd smile.
He thought I was simply picking every ear in sight. I wasn't. He never figured out that I preferred the more mature, more developed ears of corn. So I picked some of what he and the rest of the family liked and some of what I liked.
I've never been one to go with the crowd on anything--which I think now exasperates my boss a little. Some things never change. :)
Every August we made a special trip (or three) to the farm to pick corn. Usually it was a Saturday evening, after a day full of chores. By the time I was 11, I knew to take a long-sleeve shirt along to wear in the field. It was too hot for long sleeves, but the stems sticking out from the stalk were very itchy on my skin--and occasionally the edges of them caused what felt like paper cuts. We'd work until dark, sometimes a little beyond that.
On the way home we'd stop at the homes of various friends and give them each a paper bag full of fresh-picked corn. After church on Sunday morning we (but honestly, mostly me) would sit in the shade, shucking corn for HOURS. My mom and sisters stayed busy in the kitchen, blanching the shucked ears of corn and bagging them to be frozen.
It's a nice memory, but my favorite part is that each year I exasperated my dad. He preferred younger, more tender ears of corn. Each year he'd show me one and each year get annoyed when I'd go on to pick an assortment of younger and more developed ears. He'd remind me he didn't like the older ears and say I would have to eat them. And I'd smile.
He thought I was simply picking every ear in sight. I wasn't. He never figured out that I preferred the more mature, more developed ears of corn. So I picked some of what he and the rest of the family liked and some of what I liked.
I've never been one to go with the crowd on anything--which I think now exasperates my boss a little. Some things never change. :)
Monday, September 3, 2012
Stung, but not by a bee
Have you ever been stung by a human? I know that’s a weird question, but I’m pretty sure I was stung by a human once. By my step-sister.
Just a little background. She was 18 and I was 25 when my dad met her mom. She alternated between flirting and acting as if we had grown up together as brother and sister. The latter was okay, the flirting was weird. I never reacted to it one way or the other. I just acted as if she had said nothing. My brothers blushed...that egged her on.
We're not friends, but we’re friendly when we’re in the same place—always as members of large gatherings. Except once. A few months after my dad passed away, my step-mother asked my wife and me to visit her in Florida to help sort his things. My wife helped her in the morning while I took care of some estate details. Then the 3 of us worked on sorting in the afternoon. We took her and her daughter out to dinner that evening and then sat and talked for a while back at her condo.
When it was time for us to head to our hotel, we started exchanging half-hugs to say goodbye. When my step-sister got to me I could see that instead of the standard fake kiss on the cheek, she was zeroing for a kiss on the lips. My reflexes were good. I turned my head to the left so quickly and so hard she ended up planting a kiss just below my right ear. When she did that it felt like I had been stung by a bee. Ouch!!!
On the way to the car I told my wife about the sting and she laughed—thinking I was joking. We stopped at a convenience store on our way to the hotel and in the light my wife could see that my neck was red and splotchy just below my right ear—and it looked like there was a prick in the skin. It burned.
I washed the spot as soon as we got to the hotel. Then I turned to my wife and said, “OMG, she bit me…now I’m going to live forever!!!” Well, I seem to be continuing to age and I didn’t develop a lust for blood, so there seems to be no long-term side-effect from the sting. =)
But does anyone know what she did to me—or how she did it? How does a human “sting” someone??? It was not a static electricity shock, that wouldn't have left my neck splotchy. And while her lipstick/gloss could possibly have cause a reaction on my skin, it shouldn't have felt like a sting. Very strange!
PS - This is another repeat post. :)
Just a little background. She was 18 and I was 25 when my dad met her mom. She alternated between flirting and acting as if we had grown up together as brother and sister. The latter was okay, the flirting was weird. I never reacted to it one way or the other. I just acted as if she had said nothing. My brothers blushed...that egged her on.
We're not friends, but we’re friendly when we’re in the same place—always as members of large gatherings. Except once. A few months after my dad passed away, my step-mother asked my wife and me to visit her in Florida to help sort his things. My wife helped her in the morning while I took care of some estate details. Then the 3 of us worked on sorting in the afternoon. We took her and her daughter out to dinner that evening and then sat and talked for a while back at her condo.
When it was time for us to head to our hotel, we started exchanging half-hugs to say goodbye. When my step-sister got to me I could see that instead of the standard fake kiss on the cheek, she was zeroing for a kiss on the lips. My reflexes were good. I turned my head to the left so quickly and so hard she ended up planting a kiss just below my right ear. When she did that it felt like I had been stung by a bee. Ouch!!!
On the way to the car I told my wife about the sting and she laughed—thinking I was joking. We stopped at a convenience store on our way to the hotel and in the light my wife could see that my neck was red and splotchy just below my right ear—and it looked like there was a prick in the skin. It burned.
I washed the spot as soon as we got to the hotel. Then I turned to my wife and said, “OMG, she bit me…now I’m going to live forever!!!” Well, I seem to be continuing to age and I didn’t develop a lust for blood, so there seems to be no long-term side-effect from the sting. =)
But does anyone know what she did to me—or how she did it? How does a human “sting” someone??? It was not a static electricity shock, that wouldn't have left my neck splotchy. And while her lipstick/gloss could possibly have cause a reaction on my skin, it shouldn't have felt like a sting. Very strange!
PS - This is another repeat post. :)
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