Friday, July 10, 2009

Never Bedeviled by the Details

The residue of being married to someone who is, at his core, an ass has forced Margaret to deal with any number of issues over the eighteen years of our relationship. I do not pretend to have the financial wherewithal to qualify for membership in the Club of Eccentricity. And while I would not consider myself to be kooky, it is a term that has been used by at least one person who knows me to describe me. While it is not a particularly flattering description, I have been called worse. And the day is young, so there is a reasonable likelihood that I will be again before its end.

One of the pure, unadulterated joys (he writes with tongue firmly implanted in cheek) to which Margaret has been subjected is my less-than-enthusiastic embrace of the notion of vacation. I do not do nothing particularly well - which is either ironic or coincidental as I also do not do anything particularly well. I am a horrific vacationer. When one elects to start one's work day at somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00 in the AM and wrap it up somewhere between 6:30 and 7:00 in the PM, it is perhaps not surprising that I have real adjustment issues when I am supposed to be spending several days back-to-back-to-back (and belly-to-belly-to-belly) doing nothing in particular.

This time next week the good people of the State of Wyoming shall be bracing themselves for an Eastern invasion as the Missus and me make our great migration west to visit Rob and to take in the sights and sounds of Cheyenne Frontier Days. As if two hyper-caffeinated Easterners would not be enough to put the residents of Laramie County into a state of alert not seen since Dick Cheney obtained his very first hunting license ("Lookie here Lynne, a Democrat! Fire!") we are being accompanied on this journey by Margaret's dad, Joe. It has been a brutally tough last six weeks for Joe and for Margaret. Accepting as true the axiom that there is strength in numbers, it seems to me eminently logical to give them one another to lean on for the week as opposed to asking them to prop one another up from two thousand miles away. My bride is not even five feet tall - no wingspan at all.

Knowing what a bad "relaxer" I am - and being more than slightly neurotic in her own right - Margaret has done what I reasonably anticipated she would do. She has mapped out and plotted a list of activities to do, places to go and things to see for practically every day that we shall be on vacation. If Eisenhower had been provided with Margaret to handle logistics in France in June of '44, it would have taken about eleven minutes to land all of the Allied troops in Normandy - and she would have had concierges on the beaches handing the soldiers "to do" lists.

Given that every party we have ever hosted at our home has been planned, plotted and graphed while running every possible scenario of what was supposed to occur vs. what could occur it surprised me not at all to come home from work Wednesday evening and find her with color-coded lists and charts with the word "VACATION" written in big print across the top of them. It appeared to me at first glance that on Tuesday morning (the 21st) Joe and I were scheduled to invade North Dakota. Imagine my relief when I learned that was on the "Things to Do if Time Permits" list as opposed to the mandatory activities calendar. Any state whose university nicknames its varsity teams "The Fighting Sioux" is not to be taken lightly.

Cause there’s something inside us
That won’t let us be
It stalks through our days
‘Til it’s too dark to see
And it’s damn near as deadly as Texans on ice
Lord don’t they beat all
Y’all have a nice holiday

I like to have fun - too much too often probably - at Margaret's expense but I am very much looking forward to our trek. And experience has taught me that while all of her fretting and worrying about every little detail appears to be evidence of insanity to the untrained eye, her attention to detail will help ensure that we have one hell of a good time.

And if that makes me kooky, then so be it. Guilty as charged.


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