Once upon a time, when he was still in training, I sent Patrick out for limes, and he can back with green rocks in disguise as the citrus juice bearing fruit.
"What the hell is this? You paid for these?!?! A 10 ton road roller wouldn't even be able to squeeze anything but pulp dust out of these sorry excuses for limes!" I tried not to yell, but was in complete disbelief.
"I thought you always pick out the hardest fruit. Isn't that why you squeeze everything, to check?" Question marks were all over his face. Needless to say, I just had to mix my margarita a little big stronger that day, and laugh at the ridiculous ordeal.
Years later, he knows what produce is suppose to be firm vs. soft, he's way better about just telling people, "no" instead of trying to please everyone and as a result is no longer a flake, he's competent in the task of separating laundry, he's way more efficient about communicating to the waitstaff at restaurants to get what he pays for, and he's the best new Daddy ever!!!!!
But he's still a (tall dark and handsome) chicken.
And here I am, exactly the same. The bossy as ever, cover stealing, messy house dweller, side seat driving, forgetful, but loving wife to the most wonderful husband a girl could ever ask for.
6 years ago on Saturday, we were united under the eyes of God, and to celebrate, I wanted to go sky diving. But since (for some crazy reason), Patrick was scared that jumping out of a plane may end one or both of our lives, I (being the amazing wife that I am) decided to compromise (because that's what a healthy long lasting relationship is all about), and pretended to sky dive in a indoor wind tunnel at iFly.
What an experience!!!
We donned our body suits that reeked of other peoples sweat (because what's more romantic than that?), plugged up our ears with orange foam (besides, what couple needs to talk to each other, anyway, after over 8 years of togetherness?), strapped on foggy eye gear, buckled into helmets (just in case we forgot how to use our hands and stopped a wall we couldn't see with our faces), and jumped into the middle of a hurricane (which was similar to driving 200 miles per hour down the highway and sticking your head out the window).
An instructor stayed in the tunnel to make sure we didn't somehow get ourselves killed help us stay afloat and to signal commands, and at the end of our second flights, he grabbed ahold of our suits, taking us high and low into the tunnel, spinning us in circles. My mouth was fixated in a gaping grin, with spit mercilessly escaping beyond the threshold of my lips. Each flight lasted a little over a minute, but with all the work involved, it felt more like five.......probably because we are both shamelessly out of shape right now! I'm even not going to deny the fact that I had some sore spots the next day.
When the flying escapade was all over, we crashed Ally and Stuart's house to introduce them to Dillon, watch the Baylor football game, and devour the amazing anniversary dinner Stuart had slaved over all day.
Even though we didn't actually jump out of a plane, I had the best time with my best friend with the best benefits (sharing a life together), and I look forward to at least 60 more years of adventures with my one and only love (especially since he's already trained and knows the difference between a lime and a rock).
But he's still a (tall dark and handsome) chicken.
6 years ago on Saturday, we were united under the eyes of God, and to celebrate, I wanted to go sky diving. But since (for some crazy reason), Patrick was scared that jumping out of a plane may end one or both of our lives, I (being the amazing wife that I am) decided to compromise (because that's what a healthy long lasting relationship is all about), and pretended to sky dive in a indoor wind tunnel at iFly.
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