The Mister

It was Andrew's idea to get the elk for Papa's birthday cake.  I am thinking the fact that HE loved it so much (and wanted it to play with) had a great deal to do with the decision- but I don't mind saying that I went with it, knowing I'd have it pretty easy with cake design this year if I did.  How many different designs can one make with peanut butter frosting, anyway?  Sheesh.

He's so handsome and strong and hard-working and sweet.  After 12 years of marriage, I've known those things for a long time.  But I learned something new about my Mister this year- something that I can barely (no, not at all) relate to.

On Valentine's Day, I wrote this:

Feb 14^th 2015

It has been such a frigid winter this year.  Our hilltop has been blanketed with snow all winter long- more and more inches adding to the already made layers from the many weeks of these cold, bitter, snowy days.  It has been ever so long since I saw any color but white under my feet. 

Tonight the weather is -1 F with wind gusts up to 39 miles per hour…making the outdoor temperatures to feel about -20 F.  Tomorrow’s high is 1 F. The wind howls outside the window and rattles the glass of the windows as I type.  I type only because we have moved the computer downstairs~ the upstairs office was too cold for frozen digits to be productive in any capacity.  The poor windows in this house are fighting a losing battle of keeping warmth IN- you can actually feel a draft and see blankets or curtains move.  There is a winter chill advisory through tonight and into tomorrow evening.  And, oh yes, a few inches of accumulation by morning.

What an odd thing, then, to say goodbye to your husband for the night as he descends into the blustery darkness with camping gear and high hopes for a good nights’ sleep in the woods.  WHAT?!? 

I think Matt and I are a very good match and we relate to each other very well in almost all circumstances…but after 12 years of marriage, I think I have found something in which I cannot relate to him at all.  Really, who in their right mind goes camping in the middle of one of the coldest February nights on record?

He and his twin brother John, both having celebrated 38 years of life just yesterday, are out there right now huddled up around a fire and covered in wool blankets and poncho liners and special sleeping bags and face masks that drawstring up so tight that only your nose can poke through.  Not in the latest Coleman tent, oh no, but with a simple tarp overhead.  Maybe.    

This is something that they have spent many winter nights doing together growing up, so I am told, with a fond nostalgia.

I wonder, though, if they enjoyed that sort of thing as boys because they had not yet experienced the feeling of a woman curled around them in bed at night, keeping them warm and snug the whole night through.  Had this passion just been the foolishness of competitive boys who needed to define their manhood in some way- much like that first puff of a cigarette the cool kid at school offers you?  Will the wild woods and whipping winds at midnight be as enticing now that they have the knowledge of what they are missing and perhaps a bit more wisdom under their belts?

I like to think so.

  

But I wonder.  

You should have seen the twinkle in Matt’s eye as he prepared his ‘gear’.  You should have heard the stories and reminiscing and joking while we sat around visiting, before they departed outdoors and we women and children departed to our cozy beds, alone for the night.  These men-boys spoke of their plans to cook bacon, sausage, eggs and coffee over the campfire with just the simplest of pans, all hauled in on their backs.  They related the story (between the sniggers and grins) of the time Matt was so cold in the morning, he stood shivering and stomping by the fire when someone laughingly said “Hey Matt.  Your leg is on fire” while flames burnt a dinner plate sized hole in his clothing without his knowledge whatsoever.  Ah, good times.

This is either the moment that they realize that wives are a whole lot better to be in bed with than snowflakes or I learn that this husband of mine, who I have always known to be a serious country boy, is a total nut. 

Husband, come back to me soon.  And with all your digits- and the tip of that handsome nose still rosy.

The verdict is in.

He's a nut.