Front Row Seats

Life with my husband, Scott, is never boring. We have now been married twenty six years, and I am still amazed and amused at what he does, but I am not sure I am any closer to really understanding him than I was as a young bride. He has a quirky way of doing things, and I am alternately cringing or chuckling, depending on my mood. Scott's favorite phrase is "dog squirt." (Yes, I do realize what images that phrase brings to mind!) If a room is messy, he'll announce, "This room looks like dog squirt." Or, "This smells like dog squirt." Or even,"I feel like dog squirt." He even uses it as an expletive, "DOG SQUIRT!!!!!"

Scott is a bit like a mad professor. He really focuses on things he is working on, and he can't always pull his head out of his project enough to explain himself to the rest of us. He is also famous for losing things. The combination of these two problems can make life interesting.

"Where's my......?"
"Your WHAT?"
"My.....(accompanied by some sort of gesture)"
"WHAT???"
"My....you know... (he now points his index finger and makes rotating motions with it)"
"You mean your screwdriver?"
"Yes, that's what I said."
"Which one, flat or Phillips?"
"That one. (He makes a criss cross motion)"
"In your dresser."
"Where in my dresser? I can't find anything in there. It's always covered with clothes."
"That's because you keep your tools in your drawers. Where should I put your clothes, in your toolbox?" (Right now, in Scott's underwear drawer, there are empty medication bottles, a couple of test kits, several screwdrivers, pliers, screws, several flashlights, and a haircut/beard trimming kit. Where am I supposed to put the underwear?)

I would have to say that my favorite Scott story happened about two years ago. We had taken our five youngest kids on a month long RV trip across the country. This alone should let you know exactly what our mental status is. In any case, we were at our campground near Washington, D.C., getting ready for our first trip into the city. Our campground provided a shuttle into town, and it dropped passengers off at the Metro station. The kids and I had grabbed all of our backpacks, water bottles, and other daily necessities, and were sitting in the shuttle, waiting for Scott. On the shuttle with us were several older couples, most of them from the South. The kids and I sat for a few minutes and listened to their pleasant banter.

All of a sudden, we heard a door slam. Scott came running out to the shuttle carrying the umbrella stroller and camera bags. With every step, his shorts rode a little lower on his hips. Finally, his shorts fell completely down. Poor Scott had his hands full, so he ran a few steps with his shorts around his ankles, then realized he would move faster if he could hike them up. He grabbed his shorts and yanked them up, while still jogging out to the shuttle. The ladies in the shuttle started to giggle and hoot. "I've seen EVERYTHING now," one of them commented between snorts. I admit it, I couldn't resist. "Well...that's because he lost his pants!"

Red-faced, my beloved finally reached the shuttle, climbed up the stairs, and asked me, "Honey, do you know where my belt is?" "Yes, it's on the stove." (Only those of you who have stayed in an RV with five kids before will understand how a belt could end up on the stove.) Scott turned to the shuttle driver. "Do you mind if I go and get it?" "PLEASE DO!" the shuttle driver exclaimed. Scott jogged off to get his belt, and applause broke out when he got back on the shuttle with his belt ON. Every morning after that, as we got on the shuttle, the ladies would giggle and whisper to each other. And my dear husband just grinned at them.

Sometimes I feel as though I live at the zoo, other times I feel like my house is a three ring circus. Either way, I have front row seats. And they're the best seats in the house.