The night my husband almost brought a hooker home for dinner.

Let's set the scene: It was Don's birthday, he was coming home from work at 6 and we were going to have a little birthday celebration.  He was very much looking forward to spending some quality time with his family.

However, he was running a little early, by about 15 minutes. Because he didn't want to mess up any plans that I had (For instance, if I was making dinner and it would be ready right at 6) he pulled over a few blocks from our house and was checking his messages and email on his phone for a few minutes. And that's when she knocked on his window.

"Did you stop to give me a ride?" She asked.

"Uh, nope. Sorry. Just checking my phone..." He replied.

"Oh." She paused. "Cause I thought you pulled over to give me a ride."

Now, my husband, as you might know, is one of the sweetest, most generous... and *naive* men you'll ever meet. Seriously.  So, of course, he offered to give her a ride. He felt  bad for her, you see, because she was not dressed for the cold weather. She didn't have a jacket on, and her skirt was pretty short, after all...

You see where I'm going with this, right?

She hopped in his truck, and off they went... to her hotel. On the way there, they chatted and he found out all about where she was from (out of state, but I forget where), where her family was, how she liked our city, etc. He offered her a whole box of brownies that he had in his truck when she said she was hungry. He almost offered to feed her dinner at his house, but didn't, because he didn't want to spring an extra dinner guest on me at the last minute.

They got to her hotel and he said goodbye. She paused for a moment and then said:

"So... do you want a date with me?"

"Oh, you're so nice to ask. But no, I have to get home to my wife. Because I'm married. But you're really nice. Thanks!"

"So... you don't want a date?" I'm sure she was very confused by now. This is probably not how many of her "dates" end.

"Nope! I've really got to get home. It's my birthday!"  And then he left her there.

When he told me the whole story, 10 minutes later, he was so pleased and flattered. By the time he got to the end, I was bent over with laughter and he was very confused at my reaction.

"Honey," I exclaimed. "You picked up a hooker!"

"No... No! She was just really nice..."

And that, my friends, is my favorite story of how sweet, generous, kind, and so very very naive my husband is.

I like to imagine that this woman, so astounded and befuddled by Don, decided to change her life, and became... I don't know, a librarian or something. Or that she was an undercover cop and the police have a really really funny story to tell now.

My Very Worst Date.

I was 18 and naive, he was 24 and a loser. What more can I say?

I met “Jack” through a friend. Jack asked me out and, coming from a religious culture that told young women never to turn down a guy for a date because it would “Hurt his feelings” I said yes, even though there was absolutely no interest on my part in going out with him. As a side note, it took me years to grow out of that conditioning, but eventually I decided that I didn’t always have to say yes to a date. This experience certainly helped me along that path.

I worked at a movie theater and got free popcorn, drinks, and movies. Jack decided that movies were the best date ever, so that’s what we did. And I had to drive... 24 year old Jack had never had a driver’s license because he “Just never got around to it.”  (This was his actual explanation to me.)

So, I picked him up from his mom’s house (he’d also never gotten around to moving out) and we headed to the movies where I worked. I got the tickets and we sat through the movie. I was very uncomfortable the whole time. Luckily, I drove him home and I thought that would be the end of that.

Did I mention I had no spine? And I thought turning down a guy for a date would hurt him? So, that would explain why I said yes to *five* more dates with him. And all five dates were at at the movie theater, where I got us in for free, and got free popcorn and drinks for him, and sat awkwardly in silence. I don’t mind a cheap date, as long as it’s interesting and fun. But going to the movies every time was not my idea of a good way to get to know someone. They were the most boring dates I’ve ever been on.

I was about at my breaking point when he asked me out again. He must have seen the doubt in my face when I asked “Well, what do you want to go do?” because he said “We’ll go on a picnic! I’ll have my mom pack us up a lunch. I know this great spot.”  

I said yes, I’m ashamed to say. I thought “Hey, at least we won’t be going to a movie. Maybe we can actually get to know each other. Maybe he’s not just boring.”

So, I arrived at his house on the anticipated day. I stood around awkwardly making chitchat with his mom for a few minutes, then he came in and said, with great gusto, “So, what movie do you want to go see?”

I can’t even remember what I said or did in the next few minutes. I probably just stood there, dumbfounded, for a while and shrugged my shoulders. The pit in my stomach was growing. There was no way I wanted to spend one more date at the movies with this guy. We got in my car and headed off to the theater. He suggested that we should eat before the movie started, so we went over to Blimpie, where I paid for a sandwich I had no stomach for. The whole time I was picking at my sandwich, I just kept trying to get up the courage to tell this guy that it wasn’t working for me.

Finally, he asked me if I was okay, probably seeing that I wasn’t eating anything. I really wish I’d had the guts to tell him what was really wrong, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t get out the words “I’m sick of dates where I get us into the movie for free, you big, stupid, mooch.”

Instead, I told him that I didn’t feel well. I took him home and then drove (all the way back across town) to my home. And then... I ignored all his calls for the next few months. I know, now, that this is a terrible way to “break up” with someone, but I really felt I had no other recourse.

I saw Jack about two years later, coming out of the same movie theaters with a group of his friends. I was getting into my car. He yelled across the parking lot. “Hey, you got a new car! Marry me!”

I just drove off without saying anything.

Funny Things My Kids Say

I used to have a livejournal called MommyFiles. I wrote down funny things my kids say and do. I was thinking about updating that, but frankly I don't think that many of my friends use livejournal anymore. And, in my opinion, these need to be shared. So, instead of posting about my kids endlessly in Rinkchat, which I'm sure Dave hates (and, let's face it, I don't think there's a whole lot that Dave doesn't hate.) I'll post it here, instead!


***
The other day, Joseph, who is now 5, was freaking out over something. Thomas, who is 2, turned to him and said "Don't freak out!"
***

***
Thomas is learning to sleep in a toddler bed. I've been sleeping on Joseph's bed in the boy's room so that I don't have to get up in the night to get Thomas back to sleep. I learned that Thomas talks in his sleep. He yelled out "It's mine! It's miiiiiine!" in the middle of the night.
***

***
Abby, who is 8 in a couple of days, told me that I should do all the work in the house because: "I hate cleaning! It's boring and it's NOT fair!"

I told her that there's not a single person that absolutely loves to clean. I might be wrong, but I don't think I am.
***


***
Abby, being Abby, asked my (recently married) little sister if she was pregnant. My sister said she was not. "Why did you even *get* married, then?" she asked. *facepalm*
***


That's all for now. 

Quaker oats.

My husband, myself and our four lovely children were walking home from church on Sunday. It was a beautiful day and we were enjoying the sunshine and having a nice talk about philosophy and the hardships of being the nursery leader and teaching the Young Men in the ward (that would be me and my husband, respectively.)

Thomas was fussy and wouldn't sit in the stroller, so I was carrying him and Joseph was casually hanging out in the backward facing sitting position of our sit-n-stand, and the girls were running too far ahead, as usual. Suddenly, a man stopped us as he was walking by.

"Quakers!" He exclaimed. "I used live out in Pennsylvania! Man, I never thought I'd see one of you guys out here!" No, really, he only spoke using exclamation marks.

Now, yes, my husband does have a beard, (picture courtesy of my daughter, the mustache is gone now, a condition I placed on Don when I decided I really do like kissing him...) but I was dressed somewhat less Quakerish. I had on a dress more reminiscent of the 1970s than the 1640s, and Abby was wearing her usuall pink princess polka dot dress that she adores so much. In other words, we don't really look like Quakers. But all this man saw was the beard.

Don quickly replied "Yup, I'm just lookin for my horse 'n buggy." but the man quickly scoffed at that idea.

"No, that's the Amish!" The man exclaimed. "I know that much!" and then we were passing each other, and he continued on to his destination and we to ours. We looked at each other and just laughed.


This happens to Don all the time.

Plant stealer

I had a plant stolen from me, either last night or early this morning. It was there when we got home from church yesterday, and it was gone this morning. Just a hole was left as the only proof that I ever had such a pretty hostas.

I'm so mad about it. Don is laughing and saying that it's just crazy to steal a plant, but I'm really mad. I'm surprised at the level of anger I'm feeling right now. I feel like the plant thief is saying "You don't deserve it, and I will take better care of it. I deserve it an you don't."

I'm sure it's been transplanted very lovingly into someone's garden. I hope they enjoy it, because I sure as heck did.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day.

Today I got to sleep in till 10am. That's the best part about Mother's day. Don also brought me hot chocolate to help me wake up. He can be really thoughtful and sweet sometimes... ;)

So, after much stress and bribing the kids to let me type in peace, I finally finished my latest entry for the tourney at http://community.livejournal.com/sg_fic_uoa/

And there was much rejoicing.

At one point I was complete stuck. I asked Don "Do I write 'boring explanatory part' or should I skip to 'exiting action scene'? He said "Write what's easy and then go back and fill in the rest."

But here's the thing... I can't write like that. I'm very much a "Write this part, and then this is what's going to happen, and then the third part" writer. I can't skip to part number three if part number two is not finished yet. My brain doesn't work that way, and I don't really enjoy writing out of sequence. Unfortunately, this means that if I'm stuck on one part, then nothing gets done.

So, next time I'll *try* it Don's way. Who knows, maybe I can find a way to make it work.

(Also, I realized that if I, the writer, thinks a part is boring, I just shouldn't write it at all. So that's what I did to get past the block.)