Tag Archives: if my husband wanted to tell his side of the story he’d have his own blog

You know who is great? This guy.

P&PPG

I know that tomorrow is Veteran’s Day and if I’m going to be talking about how great Phil is, I should probably frame it somehow in terms of his military service, and it’s not that I’m not appreciative of his service and the service of the people he works with and all the men and women before him, but he just really doesn’t bring it home all that much. Well, except for some things that are up in the air right now, but that’s a whole different thing for a whole different day I’m probably not going to get around to because I don’t feel like trying to get Phil to explain it to me, because Phil is SO GOOD at SO MANY THINGS, but the guy is absolute crap at explaining things. I mean, just garbage at it. He starts talking like we’ve been in the middle of a conversation for half an hour, only my half has been going on in his head, so I’m just actually dropped in the middle with no clue what I’m supposed to have picked up in the previous half hour. Or like I’ve been working right along side him in the Air Force, with all the attendant knowledge, for the last sixteen or so years. Not only have I never been in the Air Force, but 16 years ago, I was 15. So, no, Phillip. No.

I only hope he doesn’t explain things to his coworkers as if they’ve been married for three years.

BUT WAIT, WE’RE TALKING ABOUT PHIL’S GREATNESS.

I’m not saying I don’t appreciate him on Veteran’s Day, I do. It’s just that before I knew Phil, it was easier to appreciate veterans because they were abstract kind of people who had served in the military, and that was their defining feature to me, and that was a pretty fine defining feature, if you’re going to have one, right? But I know Phil, and he has served in the military, and continues to do so, but we’ve also been together for five years now, and we drove all the way across the country together without killing each other, and we live together, and we’re married, and we have a kid. So he’s a guy in the military, but he’s also my husband, and he’s Penelope’s father, and the guy who does the dishes, and the guy who, even if I do the dishes which hardly ever happens, will start up the dishwasher for me because I don’t like to touch the dishwasher soap chunk thingies because they feel gross. He does a lot of things.

I’m not campaigning for a better appreciate a Veteran’s Day, or saying that we need to all TAKE A MINUTE and recognize that these men and women have done MORE and ARE MORE than just people who have served in the military. Of course they are. Duh. Everyone knows that. It’s just that this is a holiday set aside to recognize a particularly large thing that they have done. Incomprehensibly large, in some cases. WHAT I’M SAYING IS, that when I sat down to put up a picture of my husband with a caption that said, “Woo! Veteran’s Day! Woo!,” for me, about THIS PARTICULAR ONE SINGLE GUY that I am writing about in this post, I felt like I also wanted to put in SOME MORE STUFF.

(“Oh, you were writing a post and found that you wanted to include more stuff? How shoooocking,” you say.)

I’ve had about enough of you.

Let me start over.

Hey, did you know that tomorrow, possibly today if you are not reading this in the middle of the night, is Veteran’s Day? Did you know that my husband is currently in the Air Force? Did you also know that in addition to his military service, he is awesome in several other ways? Did you also know that this is my blog, and that after failing to justify combining Veteran’s Day with My Husband is Also An All Right Guy in Many Other Ways Day, I’m just going to do it anyway?

I’m in a bad mood now. I just don’t want to talk about heavy stuff, but I still want to, you know, acknowledge. I don’t want to offend anyone by not doing it correctly or taking it lightly, and it’s not that I think of the holiday lightly. I don’t at all. I just want to point out that I know it’s happening, and I know what my husband does, and I know that what he does is a thing, and he knows what he does is a thing, and actually, I know it more than he knows it, sometimes, I think. He’s been in the military long enough that he’s completely out of touch with how civilians view the military.

Well, that’s not true. I think he’s aware of some of the weird fringe that absolutely hate anyone in the military. But he’s genuinely boggled whenever anyone thanks him, which happens when he’s out in public in uniform. He feels awkward and doesn’t know how to respond, and I really think he doesn’t understand why people come up to him out of the blue to SAY SOMETHING to him. And I think I gave up a couple of years ago – I don’t know how many more ways I can say to him that that’s how people FEEL. People – real people – civilian people, of which he apparently is no longer one. Obviously. But he’s been in the military since he was 21. It’s just who and what he is, and it’s not that he doesn’t get the concept that people are appreciative, but he can’t seem to internalize it. Today we were at church, and it’s a big church, even with five services every weekend it’s still packed, so lots and lots of people, and the veterans were asked to stand and be recognized, and there was applause and appreciation and I didn’t even have to turn my head to know he hadn’t stood up.

And don’t even for one second suggest that he’s ashamed or embarrassed of what he does, because he’s not. It’s just that, I guess, to him, he’s a guy who does his job. He’s been doing it for so long, and surrounded by other guys who have been doing it for so long, and day to day, it is just a job – he works in an office and he comes home every evening right now, though of course there’s no guarantee it stays that way for any set length of time. And they don’t sit around in their offices congratulating each other on what a job they’ve taken on, and I truly think he’s fallen out of touch with how much other people truly don’t want to do it. How much other people don’t want to have to do it. Or how much other people don’t want their children to have to do it. How in other countries, everyone does it, and people know that. People know that a country has got to form a military, and if it’s not by volunteers, it’s by voluntolds, and it’s only as long as there are people volunteering to take on that job that other people’s children aren’t being told they have to do it.

I don’t think any of that goes through his head when someone comes up to say thank you, or when someone at the front of a room or auditorium or stadium or what have you asks all the veterans to stand up and be recognized for what they did or what they do. I gave up on explaining the civilian view of the military to him a long time ago, I think. I don’t really remember when. Maybe when I started appreciating him way more for all of the other awesome stuff he is.

Also, I got sick of going around with him about insurance after a few times explaining why I couldn’t go to the doctor before we met.

“Why didn’t you just make an appointment and go?”
“Because I had no time to take off work.”
“YOU HAD TO TAKE VACATION TIME TO SEE A DOCTOR?”

“Why didn’t just make the follow up appointment and go?”
“I couldn’t afford it.”
“But you had insurance.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t covered.”
“But you had INSURANCE.”
“WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT HOW REAL PEOPLE INSURANCE WORKS.”

I’d ask Liz to back me up, but I’ll just have a stroke and she’d probably go right into labor. Oh yeah, big thumbs up to her husband, too. Non-insurance-grasping vets. Nab one for yourself!

Anyway. My husband. He’s great. In several ways. You will probably just be able to appreciate him as a veteran, and also because most of these pictures of him also feature Penelope.

P&PSB

Okay, several also feature food.

philstare

I get this a lot.
It means he loves me.

toddlerscience

TRYING SCIENCE.

airport2

Totally outstanding at moving airport reunions.
I was moved. I was totally moved.
I was moving away very quickly because six weeeeeeks.

P&PINO

Takes the responsibility of teaching Penelope about her West Coast heritage VERY seriously.

HOWCANYOUEVENSTANDIT

I give him credit for at least 35% of how adorable this family is.

This is how it happens.

There’s this specific type of question Phil asks me sometimes – it doesn’t really matter what it is, except to say that he asks it and it’s not really a question. I don’t know how to explain it, and if I did, I think I’d just get a rack of Phil apologists in here telling me why I’m wrong to be annoyed by my husband, and that would be a mistake. On their part.

Anyway, so there’s this one specific type of questions that Phil asks me sometimes, and it just gets right under my skin. It immediately gets right under my skin. You know that kind of thing, right? How there’s something – I don’t know if it’s something your husband does, but it probably is – but something that just gets RIGHT UNDER YOUR SKIN RIGHT THE SECOND IT HAPPENS? Yeah, it’s something like that.

He asks this question, and it’s immediately right under my skin, and my blood pressure shoots up, and there’s this little “pah!” sound, and that sound – it’s really tiny, you wouldn’t be able to hear it even if you were sitting in my lap (which is not something you should ever, EVER do) – it’s the sound of all of the moisture on the surface of my eyes poofing away in an INSTANT. Just “pah!” Pft! Teeny little vapor puffs, all the moisture on the surface of my eyes just GONE.

And this is all AS he is asking the question. He hasn’t even finished the question before I hear “pah!” Because I know Phil, and I know this question and the forms it can take. It starts with either, “I thought…,” or “Aren’t you…,” or “Are you going to…,” and he only has to get THAT FAR before “pah!” and desert eyes, and then I am moving on to the next step, which is, or must be – I don’t know, I’m not an eye scientist – eye boil.

There’s some kind of water in the eye, or eye goo, at least, and I know this because I cut apart a sheep eye in the ninth grade, and I remember a pretty decent amount of watery goo, and after the “pah!,” my head swings or swivels on my neck, depending on if he’s been unwise enough to stand very close to me, or is asking his question from a smart and safe distance or maybe even directly behind me, which used to be safe but isn’t really anymore, because I’ve become very adept at getting my head ALL the way around, you’ll see my hypothesis on why in a moment – wait, what? I’m lost in this paragraph. Let’s meet at the next one down and backtrack a bit.

Okay, so Phil gets partway into his sentence, “pah!,” eye desert, neck swivel, oh, and then we’re at eye goo. Okay. Okay, so AS MY NECK IS SWIVELING AND MY EYES ARE TRACKING HIM, I can feel my eye goo. I feel it, you guys. I become aware of my eye goo. I’m really sorry for how many times I’m saying eye goo, and the fact that I may be making you uncomfortably aware of the fact that eye goo exists. I mean, we all logically know eye goo exists, but it’s not something we want to acknowledge on a daily basis, and I get that. I am apologizing to you. But Phil asks this question, and I become aware of mine, because I feel it HEATING UP TO A BOIL.

Now, there’s no real climax to this story, because as of yet, my eye goo has never really reached a boil. I’ve gotten a “pah!,” I’ve developed heat so intense it causes instant evaporation. My neck has reached new levels of swivel, but I don’t know if that’s a development or just practice. My eyes sometimes narrow, almost like I’m bringing in a really intense focus, and I feel the eye goo heating.

This all happens when Phil asks me this one specific type of question that gets under my skin SO FAST that this process is triggered almost like a REFLEX. So you want to know what I think is happening?

Evolution.

EVOLUTION IS HAPPENING.

I am feeling EVOLUTION AS IT IS HAPPENING.

My husband does this one specific thing that sets off my rage so quickly and so intensely that my body is ACTUALLY TRYING TO EVOLVE LASER VISION WITH WHICH TO SMITE HIM WHERE HE STANDS.

I feel it happening, Internet. This is how it happens. Our spouses and children and bosses and that woman who parked her truck in the Target parking lot in such a way that not only was she over the line into my spot, but her back tire BLOCKED MY BACK TIRE IN and then WENT INTO THE STORE AND LEFT HER TRUCK PARKED LIKE THAT and then HAD THE AUDACITY TO GLARE AT ME WHEN I WAS PARKED IN MY RUNNING CAR WAITING FOR HER TO LEAVE WHEN SHE FINALLY CAME OUT. This is how the next round of human evolution is going to happen.