I noticed on Cathy Z's blog today she wrote, "Some pictures really need no further explanation." But I know some do. I think today's photos fall into that category. Otherwise you all might wonder if I'm a bit weird. I'm here to clarify for you that, indeed, I am.
Shawn and I have this ongoing silent battle. It's silent because he's a wonderful husband and, like the experts recommend doing with a child, chooses his battles. And I, in return, reciprocate. I think he has to choose a little more often than I do. He says I'm one of two women who would have married him and that he never met the other one. It's worked out to where we've had a really groovy, happy, solid marriage for going on 17 years.
This particular silent battle is about his desire for things (all things)to be put away where they belong. I have that desire, too. But I'm not really good at it. I'm quite adept at putting reminders to file papers, put away clothes, etc. on my to-do list and then writing each Monday, "See last week." But not so good at actually putting the things (all things) away. Another thing I'm not really good at? Ironing. I'm OK at the actual task. I'm not good at getting motivated to do it. Case in point, these pants.
And this shirt. Both sat folded up on a dresser in our closet for exactly one year. I know it was one year because, being a cattle farmer, the only time Shawn ever wears anything other than Missouri Tigers t-shirts, and jeans (with varying amounts of cow manure on them) or athletic bottoms is when he is forced to go to his annual continuing education classes. He'll say that's unfair because he does ask me when we're going to a family function what I want him to wear. But I usually just tell him to wear a Missouri Tigers t-shirt and jeans (preferably a pair with little to no cow manure on them.)
Unfortunately, when Shawn's grandma passed away a few weeks ago, we found ourselves needing "dress up" clothes even though it wasn't continuing education time. There were 2 of his shirts on the dresser that needed ironing so I asked him which he wanted to wear. He said, with his sheepish grin, "Because your schedule is so busy you only have time to iron one? I guess the blue one." You better believe Mama went to town with the iron that day. He got his pants and both shirts ironed.
And his underwear. Now you know, in case you ever wondered. Boxer briefs.
Even his towel and washcloth.
Something else I don't do well? Moderation. Especially when it comes to sarcasm.
Oh, and being a good role model for children.
I'm doomed for complete and utter failure in the moderation department when I have a spray bottle in hand.