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If anyone out there needs information from me and they find me to be, oh lets say, resistant, the simple solution is to park me in front of a slow computer and make me try to compose blog posts on it.
It won’t be long until I am begging for them make it stop. I’ll tell you ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW, I would whimper. Just give me a few more gigabytes, a faster processor, an a truck load of RAM. Just don’t make me restart one more time or wait 5 freaking minutes for my internet browser to load.
I am pretty sure that I would rather be waterboarded than use a slow computer.
Pretty sure.
I worried that I have completely emasculated my husband. True, he’s a TAD bit hen-pecked. But I may have gone too far this time. So, a while back I read that running a gas lawn mower for one hour has the equivalent impact on the environment as 40 cars idling in traffic for the same amount of time. Well, being from the Northwest where being green is a requirement for citizenship, this freaked me out. So, when we were in the market for a new lawn mower, I made the unilateral decision that we would get an electric mower. I remember standing in Home Depot and Dave had this sort of defeated look on his face. The look said, “Is this the battle I want to fight, because I have to pick them carefully….” to which I responded with this look, “40 cars, Dave, 40 freaking cars….” and we went home with the electric mower.
But the sad truth is we both hate the lawn mower. I hate it because I miss that loud, growling noise each time the lawn is mowed. I mean, the sound of a running lawn mower screams, “SUMMER” and is just so “cool.” It’s like the yard work equivalent of a Harley Davidson. You know what I mean. But, frankly, our electric lawn mower sounds like a sewing machine. And I hate to sew. I think Dave hates it for mostly the same reasons — but he would define it thus: It’s a wimpy lawn mower. Don’t get me wrong, it works and gets the job done (when it actually gets used…more on that it a sec.) but it screams “Girlie-Man” like nobody’s business. It doesn’t help that you have to trail a cord behind you as you mow – or that one of the wheels always falls off.
What have I done?
So, because we have the world’s stupidest lawn mower, our lawn is almost never mowed. Which is another reason why I hate this mower.
Here you can see that the indentities of the innocent are being protected. No one wants to be associated with this yard.
This is the situation that has developed in our yard. In our own defense, we are not big yard work people to begin with, but our yard was designed by the world famous Jamie Durie – who, I might add, is anything but a girlie man. But you would never know that our lawn was professionally landscaped — all due to our lawnmower. I think it is my fault. Well, mine and the environment’s.
On our recent vacation to Whidbey Island, I found these little quiz books at the local “everything” shop.
And because I have a devilish sense of humor, I bought them. When Dave saw them he said, “Oh Great” and then he prepared himself for the worse.
These are the kind of questions I had to answer about him:
#2 Does he have his tonsils?
#9 What is his shoe size?
#42 How many times a day does he brush his teeth?
These are the kinds of questions he had to answer about me:
#5 What is her favorite color?
#11 How often does she shop for groceries?
#36 Has she ever used a power saw?
See, it starts off innocent enough, and I have to say both Dave and I were doing quite well on our respective quizzes.
#73 Which one of these CAN’T she do? A.) Touch her toes B.) Stand on her head C.) Jumpstart a car or D.) Rewire a lamp.
Uh, yeah, I can’t do any of those…
How about these:
#48 Does she know who Pythagoras was?
Whatever…
#14 Would he like to ride into space?
Totally, he would be there in a second. I, however, have to be drugged to ride in an airplane.
But then a few zingers found their way into the game, for example:
#26 Which one of your women friends does he find the most attractive?
Let’s just say I got that one right. Not because he admitted it, but because he turned bright red and opened a beer.
#89 Is there anything you (he) can do that SHE can’t?
No. I can even pee standing up, if required. Oh, wait, he can swim the butterfly. Take it from me, my butterfly is pretty darn ugly. I also cannot do calculus.
#43 What would she say about the idea of a strip club a mile from your home? A.) “Where do I sign to protest?” B.) “Makes no difference to me!” C.) “Great!” or D.) “Hmmm, Wonder if they are hiring?” Well, since the high school I used to work at is RIGHT NEXT to a strip club (I kid you not), I am gonna go with C. Okay, just kidding.
Of course, now when some creep out ther googles “strip club” my blog will come up. Lovely.
So, if you are bored this summer and looking to torture your husband, pick these little gems up. Or better yet, give them as wedding gifts. The groom will thank you, I am sure.
So, as Dave and I are climbing into bed last night, I take the opportunity to tell him about a couple of back-to-back nightmares I had the night before. I am not prone to nightmares but these two were especially vivid as they both dealt with Ty being in mortal danger and me, the mommy, being fingertips away from saving him but not being able to. I normally don’t talk about stuff like that as I don’t believe in putting stuff like that out there. But last night I needed to shake the dreams by telling my husband. He listens and does the much needed nodding and cooing. Then he says, “Ugh, sometimes I have waking nightmares where I imagine something happening right before my eyes.” I nod… oh, we are being so supportive to each other right now. “Oh yeah, like when you’re walking down the stairs carrying Emme and you have this flash of yourself tumbling down while you’re holding her?!?!” We sorta sit there and nod. Sigh. I feel satisfied in our mutual comiseration of morbid thoughts. And then Dave says THIS:
“Well, we all know about the double slit experiment.”
What-huh-huh-huh-eh?
Well, no actually, I don’t, I inform him. Oh, he says, you are just baiting me, aren’t you? Correction, husband, you baited me with your weird science-teacher talk and now, I fear, I am in for some rudimentary lesson in physics that I know… know I can live without.
Well, the double slit experiment is pretty well-known, he says. Great. Now I am being insulted as well. Perhaps I am the only person in all of the world who has never heard of this COMMON, well-known, probably on Sesame Street experiment, but, please, continue. So, he tells me that if you take a piece of common cardboard and put two slits in it and shine a light through the two slits, one gets a pattern on the opposing wall that looks like stripes because (and this is where I have to take his word for it) two electrons are interacting with each other to create the pattern. But, oh and here it gets really really crazy, if one turns down the intensity of the light so that only ONE electron goes through the slit, you will still see the same pattern on the opposing wall. Even though, he says with a gleam in his eye, there is only one electron passing throught he slits. You can imagine my chagrin at never having heard of this amazing experiment.
But it gets better.
But if only one electron is passing through the slit, he ponders, where is the other electron? The one needed to interact with the original electron and therefore create the striped pattern? I hold my breath. Well, says Dave, we can’t prove it yet, but the most PLAUSIBLE (this word is very important so remember it… plausible) explanation is that the other electron is in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. Are you saying that in some alternate universe I actually fell down the steps with Emme???? NO, but there are zillions and billions of alternate universes. And guess who came up with this whole thing, he asks? I shout out perhaps the only famous scientist I know, certain of success: EINSTEIN!! No, Dave says….. it was GOD. And this is all coming from a man who refuses to watch LOST because it doesn’t make sense.
A moment of silence passes and then I say: Go get my computer! Oh good, he says, you’re going to Google this, aren’t you.
Nope. I am going to blog.
Tomorrow we are going to analyze a Shakespearean sonnet before bedtime and then discuss Dante’s 9 circles of hell… one of which I was on during the discussion of the double slit experiment. Stay tuned.
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