Here's to Not Catching Our Hair on Fire: An Absent-Minded Tale of Life with Giftedness and Attention Deficit - Oh Look! A Chicken! by Turis Stacey

Author:Turis, Stacey [Turis, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bohemian Ave. Press
Published: 2012-01-11T05:00:00+00:00

You might be wondering what my husband thinks of this Yin Yang relationship with this other man. Does he get angry? Jealous? Possessive? Nope. My husband adores McLovin as much as I do, and is eternally grateful to him for his ability to keep me focused, feeling understood, and out of his hair. When we all get together, they give me shit all the way to Friday. It warms my heart seeing them laughing as they make fun of me for something. We owe McLovin big time, and one of these days, one of my kooky ideas is going to make those two boys a shit-ton of money, and then they can laugh at me all the way to the bank. That will be my pleasure.

Who is this seemingly perfect husband I keep referring to? Is he really perfect? Actually, no, not at all. As a matter of fact, a couple of weeks ago, he and I came to the conclusion that he has “no common sense.” That’s not a judgment, my friend…simply an observation. And not just my observation—his, too! Funny how that never crossed our minds when he accidentally packed the cat in a box and stored her in the garage (she lived to meow about it). I have many examples of the same kind of stupid. I’m not sure what the catalyst was, but once we finally figured out that he was simply lacking common sense, and not just plain dumb, I had to cut him some slack. I needed to be as accepting of his brain as he was of mine. I still try to keep that in mind when he does something completely idiotic, and thankfully he returns the favor three-fold.

Ours wasn’t your typical boy-meets-girl love story. It was more of a “boy lies to girl”…at least the kind of lies you would tell a chick that you meet in a club in Vegas and expect to never talk to again. He had no idea he was talking to his future wife when he told me that he was a twenty-five-year-old (twenty-two-year-old) kindergarten teacher (student teacher in college) living on a San Diego beach (in the hills) with his friends (parents), and millions of dollars in inheritance (ten thousand dollars) coming to him. Oh yeah, and his best friend, Brent, sitting next to him, was a race-car driver (amateur beach Wiffle ball player).

I was living in Wichita, and at the tail-end of a three-year relationship. I had already moved out of the house we had purchased together just six weeks prior to me leaving. Though living separately, we were still “together,” as we half-expected to work things out and then I would give up my temporary residence and move back in. As you know, things change and things don’t change. It was the end of 1999, and I was hell-bent on starting 2000 off with a clean slate. I was invited to Donya’s wedding, which was taking place in January in Vegas, and I wanted to go as a person that was either single or taken.

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