Adventures of Husby + Wifey: Afternoon Intruders

before_after_slideshow_0061 So many of you may know that Husby and Wifey just moved into their first home. Yes, 4 bedrooms and a long anticipated fireplace.

Wifey is now an official expert in home buys and a Craigs-lister to the core. Meanwhile Husby is exerting his Mountain Man bravado and chopping wood for the fire like he's preparing for the snow-Apocolypse.  (for those who live in Portland, you know this actually happened)

They are very happy.

But it didn't start out nearly so pleasant...

Upon moving in, Husby, the ever-cautious security buff, suggested, "Now we just need to change all the locks. You never know who has a key to your house".

Wifey looked askance, superiority written all over her face. "Who actually does that? No one has a key to our house. Plus, that would cost a fortune!"

And so they let the matter lie.

All was warm and delightful for several weeks. One bright Monday afternoon, Husby had the rare pleasure of a holiday. (As everyone knows, working for the government does have it's benefits when it comes to holidays. ;) Husby sat idly smoking his pipe in the office and  Wifey toddled off for a quick errand. A peaceful silence settled over the house, with Husby's puffing the only disturbance.

Husby eased back in his chair, but almost fell out of it when the silence was interrupted by two male voices. The side door was unlocked and the garage opened. Their raucous voices filled the open doorway and Husby bolted for the bedroom for some kind of weapon. Snatching up the handy 9mm, Husby headed straight for them.

Two burly strangers stood in the garage, pawing about the still unopened boxes.

It was Husby's time to shine. "What the heck are you doing in our garage?" he demanded.

Panicing the intruders fumbled, "we are looking for some tools we left here".

yeah. right.

"Give me the key you have and get out" rejoined Husby.

The would-be burglars loosed a venimous look in Husby's direction and scrambled out. Husby called the police and reported the incident. Meanwhile Wifey returns home, gone for only 30 minutes, and is struck dumb by the tale.

Needless to say, Wifey listend to Husby after that. They changed the locks.

Moral: Listen to your husband. You really never know who has a key to your new house.

Photo credit: HI Carter Photography

Advents of Husby & Wifey: They Burnt The Pants


Well...not really. Wifey's just wanted to for so long, she practically can envision the entire scenario. Big blue burning barrel....jeans soaked in kerosine. Stuffed in barrel. Light a match. VOOM. Outdated saggy pants are engulfed in flames. I'm sorry Arizona brand, you done me wrong for long enough. Rest in peace.

Wifey did not realize marrying a mountain man from Montana would not be an easy transition into citified style. NO SIR. After 14 months of cajoling, pleading, explaining and finally bribing- Husby relented to buying a new pair of jeans. A fitted pair. A stylish pair. A pair where wifey can no longer fit her entire body in one pant leg.

This, dear readers, deserves a moment of silence.

While you meditate in quiet, picture Wifey noiselessly fist pumping the air, bounding with joy and generally ecstatic.

Ladies who have married "Baggy Bottom Boys" give ear. There is hope for you.

Advents of Husby and Wifey: The 1st Anniversary

It was the 16th of June, this day 365 days ago, Wifey first said- I Do. And rumor has it, she has loved every minute of every day since. Yes, there are ups and downs, conflicts and resolutions, disses and kisses, hurts and forgiveness. But from all appearances, it is well worth the ride. In her recent dialogue memoirs, she confesses to her readers her unexpected surprise at discovering romance still flourishes after the wedding day. "I think it's because the movies always end at the alter or closeby and you forget that they're still in love after the ceremony". For wifey, the 16th of June was just the beginning of the best.

Wifey sent me a few memories as photographic proof of their marital bliss over the past 12 months.




The End.