outdoors.truthandcommonsense.com

My wife as "Jeannie"

I have decided on occasion to pass along stories of my wife. A good hunter has either a good wife backing him, or a wife that encourages escape from the rigors of matrimony into the woods where peace and common sense apply. My wife doesn’t mind me going because when I’m gone the silly things she does go unnoticed. I was there for this one.

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For all of you that know my wife, she is a lovely woman, now forty-five years of age, who acts and models on occasion. She is in the process of building her portfolio with photographers and agents. She is constantly either modeling (as she did last week on the East coast and when driving back ended up in Orlando. Which is odd because we don’t live there… but I digress) or going to photo shoots. I’m not really sure about all of that; it’s an “artist” thing.

Another thing you have to know about my wife, if you don’t already, is she is a blonde. Tragically, it has gotten worse over the years, to the point now where I just do a “Jerry Sheffield” and shrug my shoulders. What else can you do? (Jerry is my father in law and the most patient man I know. He has had years of experience doing the shrug with a wife and three daughters. My wife antics resemble her mother’s more than she wants to admit and has led to more than one argument over the years between us. Truth is that apple not only didn’t fall far from the tree, it rolled back up against the trunk!!)

Now, yesterday she tells me she is going to Sarasota to do a photo shoot at a beach with some photographer she met on-line. Yes, the whole serial killer thing pops up, but she’s insured and hell you can’t tell her anything anyhow. So off she goes. Of course you might all want to point out that the current weather on the West Coast is unsettled at best and downright ornery at worse right now, and the chances of getting a nice sunset on a beach (I know, again the serial killer thing) is remote. But you can’t tell her that. So I do what I do, and shrug.

Marty and our double circa 1999

Marty makes it back around dark. It is raining, as it has every day for the last week and a half. She comes running in. Now try to picture this. She is dress in a light blue (turquoise maybe?) string bikini and three inch clog shoes. (I have to add tastefully; she had some “improvements” made this last year and in a bikini they are quite evident.) She has her hair up (actually it is a “fall” so accurately it is someone else’s hair, but that’s not important) and makeup on. She is running from her car to the house trying to drag everything in. She asks for an umbrella and says she is freezing to death. So now she’s running back and forth, in the dark, in the rain, in a turquoise string bikini, carrying a leopard print umbrella, freezing to death. She claimed later the reason for the umbrella was she that the rain running in her face “blinded her.” So more accurately she is running back and forth, blinded by the rain, in the dark (using some kind of sonar system like a bat?), in a bikini, carrying a leopard print umbrella, on clogs, and of course freezing to death. I asked her later why she was wearing the bikini driving back instead of, I don’t know, clothes, and her response was “The only other outfit I had was my Jeannie (from “I dream of Jeannie” TV show) outfit and the dress I wore up. The dress was wet from the rain.” I asked her wasn’t her bikini wet? “Yes, but that’s different.” (I know scratch your head moment) How I’m not sure, but I had visions of her in a car wreck or on a traffic stop with some trooper going, “Ma’am those are sure nice, but I’m going to have to write you a ticket anyhow.” Or “Jeannie? You gonna try and blink yourself out of the ticket?” An extra change of clothes would have been nice. That’s all I’m saying.

Now, some of you know me. I’m the guy who says “Y’know, I don’t think this is working out so well”, and tries to regroup and rethink the situation. My dad had a deer hunting dog like that once. If she got confused, she’d sit down and just mull things over for a minute or two and try to figure out what was going wrong. A hound dog. A dog… On the other hand, my wife tends to get an idea in her head and go with it, regardless of how bumpy the road gets, or if in fact there is even a road left after a while. She just keeps plowing along. Me, I would have probably come inside, changed into dry clothes, put on a raincoat, picked another umbrella other than leopard print- but that’s just a personal taste issue- and went back out to get ONLY the things I needed, not try to unload the whole car. Or, I would have done all of the above and then waited until the rain stopped before going back out. Really, I mean, does it have to happen right now?? Not my wife. Nope. She had to run back and forth like some kind of crazed Playboy bunny in a scene from Hefner’s highlights, complaining the whole way just how miserable she is.

Of course, as I watch this all go by I do what any good husband will do, I told my daughter to go and get the camera so I could get a picture of it all, which was about when my wife started cussing me.

Go figure. All that and no sense of humor….