ALONG CAME ZSA ZSA

     Periodically over the course of my marriage, I've taken to referring to my wife as Zsa Zsa.  As in Zsa Zsa Gabor.  Why?  Well, I'll explain.
     I often refer to myself as a simple man.  I prefer a simple car, simple clothes, simple lifestyle, and simply trying to always save a dollar where I can.  Maybe the simplicity of my life centers around how I was raised or perhaps it was simply in born.  Either way, I'm trying to slide through life as easy as possible. There's that word again. Simple.  I cannot overstate my desire for simplicity.  This desire includes family vacations.
     "Where are we going on vacation this year?" Kristi asked while simultaneously brushing her diabetic, mostly blind and hobbling lame excuse for a dog.  The pitiful thing is anything but simple, but for further details, you'll need to refer to an earlier story.
     "Oh, maybe the Outer Banks.  Simple enough, I guess," I answered, studying her expression carefully.  I've learned over the years to read my wife's words and expressions before she speaks to find out my answer.  She was looking away from me and the dog, with squinty eyes, which meant that she was processing what I'd just said. Yep, processing it in one ear and out the other. It usually means that she's not fond of what I had to say.
     "Uh, we did that last year.  You said then that we should take a simple vacation to the Outer Banks, and this year we could go big," she said, while commencing brushing the dog, which at the mere mention of the word 'vacation' usually sent the poor animal into a deep depression.  Vacations meant a trip to the boarders, which never set well with the spoiled fuzz ball.
     I began to think.  Surely, she was using the same tactic I had just employed.  She was feeling me out through facial expressions and body language.  "I said that?" I asked with an incredulous look on my face, not unlike the facial expression I would make while watching a meteor crash through the roof of our house.
    "Yes, you did!  Ryan, Sidney, come in here please!" she bellowed.  Oh no, she was bringing in reinforcements.  Supports troops if you will.  Occasionally, Ryan would side with me, but on this issue I was a loner, a man on an island. Gilligan Fix. I was about to be over ruled.  Sidney almost always sided with her mother as a general rule.
     The kids appeared in the downstairs living room with superior speed and stood looking at us. That in and of itself was highly unusual. They usually moved at snail's pace when called by either of us. "What?" they asked in unison, which I also found to be strange.
     Kristi spoke.  "Did dad or did he not say last year that we would take a big vacation this year?" she asked with her head leaning to one side and bobbing to and fro.  I didn't like her tone or the fact that I was on the verge of being overridden once again.
    Both kids looked at me.  I put on my most pitiful face, the face that says "Please, side with your poor father.  I'm getting up in the years, I need your help."  More than once I'd threatened them with the old college funding line.  Ryan was going to wind up in barber school, and Sidney would be forced into the carnival life, probably tearing tickets for entrance onto the Ferris Wheel or perhaps doling out half dead gold fish at the ring toss game.  "There will be no money for college if we don't rein it in!" I'd say time and again to no avail.  The college fund is healthy, but they don't necessarily need to know that.
     They studied my face briefly and said in unison, "Yep, that's what you said dad!  You promised, we remember very well!"  I was beginning to wonder if their uncanny ability to recite their answers in unison had been rehearsed. My sinister wife had surely been up to no good, corrupting our kids into joining her in the vacation bombardment.  In quick fashion, I was losing the battle.  Losing the battle meant airline tickets, overpriced accommodations and food, rental cars and much more.  We'd taken several 'big' vacations in the past.  They were anything but simple.
     "Oh OK, you win Zsa Zsa!  We'll do it big this year, but your planning it.  Zsa Zsa." I whined. I enunciated the final two words for maximum effect.  They had zero effect.
     "Fine by me.  Call me Zsa Zsa if you must, but I'm not staying in some rat's nest just to save a buck.  It ain't happening."   To be fair, my wife is very thrifty most of the time and she's what most men would consider low maintenance.  However, thrift on vacation planning flies right out of the window.  She puts a premium on travel.
     I had grown accustomed to the rat's nest comment over the course of our marriage.  I would assume that it stemmed from an incident several years ago during a trip to Canada.  She had booked our stay in all but one city, which was left to me.  Naturally, I did my research and found a lovely little place outside Quebec City which suited our needs and was priced right.  Priced extremely right.  In fact, I wondered if there had been a slight mix up in communication when the lady (in broken English)  told me the price.  When we arrived, and entered our room, Kristi was appalled and shocked to find out that our room featured a toilet in the room.  I do mean in the room.  Like, it wasn't surrounded by walls. I thought it was great.  I could watch television while simultaneously answering nature's call.  However, the sink and bathtub were in a separate small room, so as far as I was concerned all was well.  I briefly pondered how a carpenter could rationalize such an arrangement. I spent several hours driving around the Canadian countryside several times while Kristi, ahem, took care of business.  I haven't been given the responsibility of lodging since.
     "Oh, alright," I said, defeated, dejected and surely on the verge of becoming a little less well-to-do.
     "We're going to Puerto Rico!"  Kristi, Zsa Zsa, screeched.  The kids high fived.  This was a mutiny plain and simple.  Immediately, she galloped over to a wooden chest in our living room, and produced several books, pamphlets, and other literature related to vacationing in Puerto Rico.  A mutiny for sure.  Preplanned and well orchestrated and the children had been used as pawns in my wife's all out assault on my check book.
     The next day, I received a flurry of text messages inquiring about airline tickets, lodging, rental cars and the like from Zsa Zsa.  "I'm at work.  We'll look things over when I get home,"  I responded.  The flurry continued.
     Finally, we began to plan our trip.  "I like this place," I stated wryly, while I watched Zsa Zsa scrunch her face.  She didn't answer, which meant she was still not over the Canada vacation of years ago. "I'm sure the kids wouldn't mind sleeping on an air mattress," I said, while both Ryan and Sidney glanced at me with a look of shock and dismay.  I thought they'd better toughen up.  Life in the carnival is no picnic.  She quickly scrolled past my selection.
     "Ooooh, I like this place!  It has a private infinity pool!  I'm sending an e-mail now!" she said excitedly, while tapping away on the laptop.  I grabbed my phone and Googled 'infinity pool'.  "Why don't you look at airline tickets?" she continued, before I had educated myself on what an infinity pool even was.  I quickly found out what such a pool was.  Great, at least I could end it all by swimming off the top of a building.  Nice.
    After what seemed like days of searching for the best possible deal on airline tickets, I had narrowed my search down to two possible routes.  "Alright, this flight originates in Washington, D.C. and stops in Fort Lauderdale on the way down.  On the way back, we'll stop in Tampa, which is good," I said, happy that I'd found the best possible deal.
    "Why Tampa?  This one backtracks through Fort Lauderdale.  Plus it will put us back in Washington earlier. That's the best one for the return trip as far as I'm concerned," she said.
     "Well, maybe we could see some people we know in the Tampa area during the layover.  That'd be nice," I said.
     Kristi had that weird look again.  "The layover is forty-five minutes!  See some people?" she said with a high pitched voice.  Her sister and brother-in-law live in Clearwater, so I thought maybe we could see them, if only briefly. "What are they going to do, wave at our plane as we fly over their house?"
     I decided to have some fun.  "Oh I know some people alright.  I know people all over the world.  I know some in Clearwater."
     "Whatever," she said, without making eye contact.  "Let me guess, an old Air Force buddy?" she continued.  I thought about the Air Force buddy comment.  I did know people from all over the United States, and a few from other parts of the world.  Who do I know in the Tampa area?  Surely there was someone.  Oh well, I could think of someone if I gave it enough thought, and they were probably planning a simple vacation unlike the one we were mired in.
     "Maybe, they could wave at our plane as well," I said, tired of vacation planning.
     Zsa Zsa finally made most of our arrangements, and I took care of air travel and the rental car.  I was happy to have that chore behind us.  I'm excited.  It's going to be a wonderful trip, and I'm thankful to God that we have the means to allow our children to experience different places, cultures, etc.
     I'll be sure to pass on our flight info to our Florida people, just in case they want to wave to our plane as we fly over.  I'll be waving goodbye to my checking account and my simple life for at least a week.
   
   

SAFE AT HOME

     I've been pondering my life lately.  The pondering has mostly centered around how I wound up on our couch, with two teenagers, a good wife, and a decent laptop in which to write.  No, the wife and teenagers aren't currently piled onto the couch with me.  They are however, somewhere in our house.  I have a nice house too.  The financial outlook here is good, everyone is healthy, and  I'm safe at home.  The story surrounding where I am at this very moment involved a rather circuitous route ranging from late high school until age twenty-seven plus a few months. I'm exceedingly glad the route has become a straight line.
     I graduated from high school in June of 1988.  I was smitten with a young lady as most guys were at that age.  In fact, I was so smitten, that I thought surely we would be married in a few years.  However, I had enlisted in the Air Force and was scheduled to fly away tearfully in several months. She left for college soon after graduation. So, if we fast forward to the following year, it had become very evident to me at least, that marriage would in no way enhance my life at that point.  I was having fun.  Too much fun.  Over time, I mustered the courage to at least break the news that we would certainly need to postpone the marriage. "It's all or nothing," was the reply.  I thought for a moment and then spoke.
     "I guess it's going to be nothing.  I'm just not ready to be married."  Even at that young age, I knew the financial hardships that we were going to be faced with.  She was in college, and I was making a pittance of pay in the military.  She drove away and that was the beginning of the end for us.
    Within a few months, I met a very nice young lady who was studying at the University of Maryland.  She was beautiful, articulate, well spoken, educated, and wealthy.  Really wealthy.  How she became interested in a guy with my credentials was and still is a mystery.  That romance fizzled out barely before it got off the ground.  I've always blamed the flame out on the fact that I referred to hors d'oeuvres as 'horse devers' while attending a swanky gathering for her father's work.  The waiter looked quizzically at me and walked away, surely wondering if I had a speech impediment.  My Andy Griffith accent didn't help matters much.
     The next contestant showed promise, and I honestly thought for a reasonable period of time that she could possibly be a candidate for a long term commitment. It should be noted that I never viewed myself as a prize necessarily, its just that I did have a few standards which shouldn't have been hard to meet as far as I was concerned. I was excited at least for a while.  One balmy Summer evening, while sitting on the tailgate of my truck watching the sun dip below the horizon at the base lake, the conversation turned from lighthearted to personal.  "You know, I could do things to you that would make your head spin.  I mean stuff that porn stars do," she said.  I noticed that her facial expression had turned from endearing to something almost sinister.  The waning daylight accentuated her face which had turned from charming to ominous and scary. Her eyebrows were slanting downward and her eyes were mere slits.  I wondered if I should just high tail it through the weeds or perhaps make a run for it into the lake and return later when the coast was clear. "I've got tons of experience, lets get a room and I'll show you what I can do!"  She gushed.  Directly, she proceeded to tell me of every single encounter in full detail she had had prior to meeting me.
     I looked around, suddenly feeling very alone and secluded as we were the lone inhabitants of the area surrounding the lake.  "Uh, it's getting late, and I have to work in the morning, so I'd better be heading back," I stammered.  There was simply no way I was going to spend a night with her in a hotel room.  I don't sleep well with one eye open.
     As we meandered back to her apartment through the streets of suburban Washington, D.C., the conversation was non-existent. I prayed for green traffic lights along the way.  When we arrived, she turned and looked at me.  "Something tells me this is it for us.  Was it something I said?" she asked with a scrunched face.  I stared straight ahead and made an attempt to process what she had just asked me.  Inside my head a voice was screaming at me to put my truck in reverse and do my best Duke boys imitation out of the parking lot.  Thankfully, she shut the door and disappeared into her apartment.  Later, I thanked God for the security of the military base.  I never spoke to her again.
     As the time passed, a few young ladies came into my life and back out as quickly as they'd arrived. Suddenly, my enlistment was nearing its end and I began to make plans for my life post Air Force.  One day, while sitting around with a few other guys who were also nearing the end of their military commitment, the subject turned to wisdom teeth.  Yes, wisdom teeth.  "You know, you should have your wisdom teeth removed before you get out.  It's free here, but I hear it's expensive when you get out.  You should have it done," my friend said, between deep draws on his Marlboro cigarette. "Like eight hundred dollars a tooth expensive," he continued.  That was all I needed to hear.  The next day I scheduled an appointment and was well on my way to my first oral surgery.
     The doctor, calmly told me to count backwards from one hundred after carefully placing a plastic mask over my mouth and nose.  I made it to ninety-six.
     I woke up in a fog, unable to speak.  I could feel the pressure on the sides of my face and my cheeks felt like what I envisioned a squirrel would look like with a mouth full of acorns.  I had a mouth full of bloody gauze.  "This is terrible," I thought.  I was alone, wearing a baby blue gown, with a mouth full of gauze, unable to speak.  Air Force rules stated that if a patient was single and living in the barracks, then they must stay in the hospital overnight for observation. I fit the criteria for an overnight stay.  Ugh!
     Lying there, and listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, I briefly wondered if I was the only person in the building at the time.  Suddenly, the door to my room opened and in strode a young, blonde, and very beautiful young lady adorned in hospital scrubs.  She looked at a few things, I suppose to determine if I was alive or not and turned to me and smiled.  "How are you?" she asked with a reassuring smile. I notice teeth, and she had nice teeth.  I closed my eyes momentarily, and then reopened them, sure that I was hallucinating from the anesthesia that had yet to fully wear off.  She was still standing there.
    "Uh, great, I suppose.  Despite the circumstances I guess," I said through a mouth full of gauze and pooled blood.  I was sure she didn't care to see my toothy grin.
     "Well, I'll be taking care of you for a while.  Don't hesitate to call if you need something," she continued.  I called her with superior regularity.  I needed pain medication.  I needed help to the bathroom.  The curtains needed to be closed,  The curtains needed to be open.  I was cold.  I was hot. The sheets on the bed needed to be adjusted.  Each and every time, she showed up with a smile.  Leaving the hospital without a way to contact her was not an option.  In one of our conversations, I discovered that she was only assigned to the base for a short time.  Soon, she'd be heading home to Florida.  I felt a sense of urgency, although my current predicament diminished my courage somewhat.
     The following morning as I removed the drafty hospital gown, and prepared to be discharged from the hospital I couldn't help but think that the perky, smiley and friendly nurse had finished her shift and probably would never lay eyes on me again.  I was wrong.  "How are you this morning?  Oh, you're really swollen.  Did you have a good night?" she asked.  She had reappeared and I was extremely relieved.
     There was no way I was going to risk her disappearing again.  "I need a way to contact you.  I mean if you don't mind."  With that, she left as quickly as she had appeared.  Oh well, nothing ventured nothing gained.
     I sighed and continued to put my clothes on and head in the direction of the nurse's station to check out.  The hallway was bustling with people coming and going in all directions.  I was glad to be leaving, yet I wasn't.  Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  "I hope you get along well.  See you around," came the voice from my then favorite nurse.  "It's been nice getting to know you."  With that she handed me a rubber surgical glove and walked away. She had written her phone number on the glove.  I was elated.
     The wisdom teeth extraction had produced what I can safely say was the best few weeks of my Air Force enlistment.  We enjoyed our time together.  Her soothing personality and genuine ways made my final days in the military much easier.  She went back to Florida much too soon by my estimation, and shortly after, I moved back to Virginia.  We promised to keep in touch, and we did for a while.  However, as things often go, we set out on different paths, and long distance relationships rarely survive.  I've often wondered how her life has been in the twenty-four years since I last saw her.  I hope things turned out well. I like to imagine her with a kind husband, who appreciates what he has.  She is probably a mother, the kind society desperately needs in this day and time. Far to many children are brought into the world by less than capable parents. She ranked at the top but it wasn't meant to be.
     In the immediate years after my Air Force days ended, I dated off and on.  Mostly off, but somehow there was always someone in the wings.  Once, I dated a young lady who outwardly appeared to have all the criteria for a relationship.  She like me too.  She said I was a great catch. I owned a home, had a good job, was going to college, and seemed to have my act together.  After a while the subject of religion arose.  I have always attended church and hoped that she had too.  So, when I felt comfortable asking her about her religious leanings, I asked how she felt about such things.  "Well, this may make you a tad uncomfortable based on what I know about you, but it's not a problem for me.  Do you promise to listen with an open mind?" she asked.
   "Of course.  I'm not that much of a shallow, small minded guy!" I answered. I had a huge smile on my face, sure that she was going to say that she was a different denomination than I was.
     "Well, OK then.  You see, I'm into Voodoo.  Does that make me a weirdo?" she stated with wide eyes.  Voodoo?  Why couldn't she be just your run of the mill Presbyterian or something.  Good grief! I was dating a witch of some sort!  Suddenly, the sharp pains I'd been experiencing in my lower back for the last few weeks made perfect sense.
     "Well, uh, I've never know anyone who practiced Voodoo.  But, um, I guess it's OK," I said, sure that this little charade had to be a joke.  It wasn't.  She proceeded to tell me all about Voodoo and what it meant to her.  What it meant to me was her taking a short trip out of my front door to never be seen again.  Voodoo girls need not apply.
     As time went on, I formed a great relationship with my neighbors.  One couple, next door, had a young son, who usually showed up at my house daily.  He often spoke of his beautiful science teacher, who was single and ready to mingle as he put it so eloquently.  "You need to meet her Mr. Fix," he'd say time and again.  "I've told her about you as well, but she said she doesn't care to be set up by a teenager."  I understood her feelings about that.  I didn't care for him playing cupid any more than she apparently did.
     As time went by, I poured myself into work and school, sure that 'the one' would come along.  One day a friend showed up at my house unannounced and as almost everyone did in those days, asked who I was dating. In the part of the country I'm from, if a person isn't married by age twenty-five the consensus is that either their gay, or simply some sort of anomaly. "Oh, not much of anyone right now," I said, thinking about the one person I did see from time to time, but showed no promise of a future with.  "Why?"
     "Well, my wife works at the middle school and knows a teacher who's single, good looking, Christian, and alone.  Very alone. She's from West Virginia and hasn't been here long.  Maybe you guys should meet.  I think you'll find she's your type.  I can get her number if you're interested," he explained.
     "Oh, why not," I said, sure that this could potentially be yet another dead end.  My mother had recently attempted to set me up with a young lady who had turned out to be a bouncer at a local bar, so I wasn't overly optimistic. In mom's defense, she didn't know about the bouncer part.
     Within a few days, I had the mystery science teacher's phone number in hand, so I called.  She seemed nice and we continued to talk for a few days after the initial call.  Amazingly, we found out that we shared a great many common interests, and she wasn't into Voodoo, nor had she been a novice porn star.  All good signs.  We agreed on a first date and in no time I was standing at her doorstep eagerly awaiting our first face to face meeting.
    On March 27th of 1999, we were married.  This has been a good life.  We have two teenagers, a daughter and a son, and life is cruising along just swell.  A good mother's protective instincts with regards to her children are unrivaled in nature.  She proves that every day.  I am thankful for her, our life, our home and the security that each provide.  Throughout the workweek, I find myself longing for the weekend and time spent with my family. God sure does work in mysterious ways.  I often wonder if just one tiny thing had been different, where I'd be.  Where would I have landed?  Who would I have landed with? Our lives are just like a mighty river that runs to the sea.  We wind and meander until finally we're safe at home.