My childhood was spent on the stage dancing and singing under the lights.
He grew up camping and hiking in the woods.
Years of voice and dance lessons took up most of my schedule.
Collecting kindling and merit badges was his routine.
While I was memorizing lines and performing in front of large audiences…
He was always “prepared,” making the world a better place, and could tie the proper knot in record time.
Then we married and lived happily ever after without any problems. THE END.
Yes, we are happily married, but as all couples who stick it out through thick and thin – we are not without a few hitches every once and again.
For example, this last Saturday night:
My sweet Eagle Scout grew up to be an extraordinary Engineer – and most of my readers know how I turned out – but let’s put that aside. Every fall, my hubby’s department at work has a family BBQ. It’s a time for the employees to bring their families together in a small group setting, let the kids run around, get to know each other, and consume WAY too much sugar.
Every year the adults stand around and discuss how big everyone’s kids have grown, even though it’s only been a year since the last affair.
“Remember when they all were just babies?” (So cute.)
Most of these engineers have been together from the beginning of their careers and watched their families and lives develop. It’s nice they work in such a family friendly environment.
However, the party is EXACTLY the same every year because it’s organized by a group of male engineers, and the title “event planner” is nowhere to be found on any of their resumes.
The annual menu consists of meat, a different kind of meat, and a couple of other choices of meat to go along with a plethora of BBQ sauces. Then you have the mayo-based sides, the cheese-based sides, a potato something and bags of chips. Desserts usually consist of cookies if anyone even emembers to bring dessert.
Now I probably have no room to talk here, for I’ve never been to the American Royal or any big BBQ competition; so I am not familiar with these finger-lickin’ testosterone-filled fests. But I’m quite certain his co-workers are professionally simulating the real deal because everyone knows NOTHING is more exciting than watching meat cook all day. Am I right, ladies? Zzzzzz…
In the area of planning, I have to admit my husband stepped up his game tenfold this year.
This past Father’s Day, I had bought him an outdoor fire pit for our back yard seating area. It looked like no other one I had seen. And knowing how much my hubby loves to build a good fire, I wanted him to have a good looking place to roast marshmallows with the girls. And of course when the Munchkins weren’t around, he could really tork it up and shoot flames up out of it like a rocket. Major wife points for an engineer!
So I had searched online and found this large orbed one because there was a YouTube video of a couple of stoners laying back in a field and watching the flame ball and being totally amazed in their low-key Spicoli voices from Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
This fire pit is called the Landmann USA 28925 Ball of Fire Outdoor Fireplace and I must say so myself…IT ROCKS!! I knew he would have fun with the the guys in the neighborhood coming over to look at it – then they could grunt, scratch and stare at it while drinking beer.
What I didn’t realize was he would want to take it to the company BBQ. Even though I can appreciate wanting to show your friends your cool new toy, this doesn’t mean you should take a big sooty ball of fire across the metro in the back of your wife’s minivan.
Yes! Did I hear you gasp too?
We have no truck. We have no trailer. We have mama’s Honda Odyssey which is beat up enough without getting charred like Mary Poppins on the rooftop scene.
At first, all I was thinking was the ashes would be all over the back of my van. But let me tell you when the light bulb went on, and I realized we were going to bring that sucker home immediately after he had been emblazing logs and marshmallows for hours – my thoughts turned downright sooty.
Not only was my Eagle Scout about to fill my van with a cloud of bonfire stench which would never leave; but I was doubting his Preparedness and was afraid he was going to melt my interior as we trekked down the interstate trail home.
This is when I had to put my faith in his engineering brain. I know he is brilliant at his job, and he doesn’t want to live with the wrath of me if he caught my van on fire; so I closed my eyes, took a cleansing breath, and blessed his decision to take the ball of fire to the picnic.
As it turned out, the s’mores were a huge success. The engineers ooh’d and aah’d at his toy, and he had a four or five step plan which was nothing like I would have imagined to keep my van from going up in flames.
After we got home, he went fast to work. I thought I heard him muttering something about an air filtration system he built for the back end of the van – to shoot out fumes.
But really all I saw was my hubby repeatedly heading to the garage with a spray bottle of Febreeze.
I never stopped him. Just let him do his work. Plus, he wouldn’t have listened to me anyway!
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