He's a keeper

My Camden.

Yesterday, he and I were waiting at the pool for Kobe to finish his swim lessons. Camden came up from under the water and said, "Did you know I can talk under water?"

"I didn't know that. How do you do it?" I asked.

"I go like this," and he smiled real big. As in show all his teeth big. Then he dunked is head in the water and shook it a bit. He popped back up and asked, "Do you know what that means?"

"Nope. What did that mean?"

"It means 'Camden is awesome!'"

He is a keeper, I tell you.

Then today, my kids were talking about how great it would be if we could get a cat. If you know anything about me you should know that I have a great un-love for cats. The whole rubbing up to my legs and purring in my ear and hissing at me in the middle of the night. Add that Hubs is allergic and there is no way we are getting a cat.

Camden comes up to me and asks, "If there was a different dad who wasn't allergic to cats, could we have a cat then?"

"Well, I guess if he wasn't allergic," I answered.

He thought about it for about two seconds. "I don't want our dad anymore. Let's get a different dad. Then we can get a cat."

Wow. He really wants a cat.

A keeper indeed.

I'm linking up to ABC Thursday and Writer's Workshop.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Move along!

Sometimes the fun of doing the thing is hearing the thing.

Like screaming. What's the point of doing it if you can't hear it? Think about it.

This is apparently also true of honking the horn. Hubs refuses to do it. No amount of encouragement from me will sway him.

Don't misunderstand. I am not heavy on the horn in the least. However, there are times when the horn comes in handy. Like when you are late to work and the person in front of you is texting and the turning arrow has been green for a good 5 seconds. A short honk fixes the problem.

Or when someone is about to cut you off on a freeway and could quite possibly send you in to a spinning teacup if they aren't careful. HONK! will make the person look twice. Or at least swerve back into their lane.

I don't think in the almost 13 years of being married to this guy, has he ever honked the horn at someone he didn't know.

He has absolutely no problem honking it when I am unsuspectingly walking in front of the car. He honks and I jump about 7 feet in the air. No problem honking then.  Or when I am late for church (which is every week). Honk honk honk. No wait, that would be my children, not my husband.

But the minute he puts the car in gear, the horn becomes off limits.

People don't hold back for him. Oh no! I can't tell you how many times he has been honked at. And I can only tell you about the times I was in the car to tell him. He just laughs. I do too, to be honest. If they only knew that they were honking and carrying on to someone who can't hear a dang thing...I bet they would feel stupid.

Nope. Hubs doesn't honk the horn. Like I said, the fun of doing the thing is hearing the thing.

And that is why they should put horns on the passenger side.

Peace

Who knew that "Going to see a man about a horse" meant that you were taking a trip to the toilet. A long trip. When I asked my dad about it this weekend, he denied knowing that's what it meant. And I really hope that he didn't know because he and mom took quite a few trips to that man and his horse together.

I'm just saying.

I have always said that I could never live in California because they have earthquakes (and wacky law makers as well...but we don't talk politics here, do we?). I could never live in the Midwest because they have tornadoes. The south and southeast have hurricanes. And the northeast coast...well, it's just too dang far from family.

I would rather live in the west.

Why? There are really no real natural disasters. Except drought. That's not so bad. Or so I thought.

Last night, I was getting my kids into bed and I noticed this red glow on the other side of town. It was a fire. A large fire. And it actually was not across town. More like 2 hours away. In the mountains. But I could see the fire from my kids' windows.

The huge AZ fire burning sent smoke into our state that made my eyes burn and forced me to keep my kids inside during the early evening. Fires to the north of us. Fires to the south. Fires to the west.

"No danger with drought." Stupid, huh.

Ugh! My heart goes out to those who have lost so much this year with the tornadoes, the tsunami, the floods, the fires, the earthquakes. To have lost homes, possessions, pictures, family members....so tragic. I can't even imagine how that feels.

I pray. I pray for the children, that they can find peace and comfort. I pray for families, that they can be strengthened through trials. I pray for the animals who have also lost their homes. I pray for those rescuers, both professionals and those with arms stretched out to those in need.

Mostly, though, I pray that all of this tragedy will turn us to God. All of us: the good, the bad and the ugly....and I am not telling you which one I am. If struggles like these don't turn us to God, it will only turn us into bitter. And what good is that!?!

In the end, it really doesn't matter where you live...as long as God is close, all is well.

 He didn't say easy, just well.

Vague

"I'm going to see a man about a horse."

That is what my mom and dad would say to me when I was young and asking where they were going.

They weren't really going to see a man about a horse. That would have been purposterous. We didn't have space for a horse. We didn't have hay to feed the horse. And Mom was the only one who knew how to ride a horse.

That is just what they would say so that they wouldn't have to tell us where they were going.

Tonight, when I asked my creative brain where it had gone, it responded, "To see a man about a horse."

Since it has left and I don't know when it will be coming back, I will leave you with the words of a song my dad used to sing to me. Say it a few times in your head. You just may laugh.

"She has freckles on her but I love her so."

What one liners did your parents use on you?

Leaping lizards!

Hubs loves animals. I am not sure where this love comes from, but I am going to guess it all started with his lizard.

One summer, when he was very young, he caught himself a lizard. It must have been love at first sight. He built it a home of wood and rock. I can just imagine him lifting off the top and petting the little guy.

But after petting him for a while he got bored. Or maybe it was curiosity? Maybe he was just being a boy.

He ran inside and came out with a surprise. He lifted the lid, aimed the BB gun and pulled the trigger. I know, horrible.

Only he didn't understand that shooting it with a BB gun would hurt it, much less kill it.

He bent down and looked at it. When it didn't move, he touched it. When he realized that it was dead, he was devastated. He cried. A lot. Looking for comfort he ran into his mom and spilled the beans.

"Mom, someone came and shot my lizard with a BB gun," he wailed. She didn't believe him.

So this sweet little lizard killing boy walks out, digs a grave, carries the limp body and buries his lizard.

And that is where his love for animals began.

At least until he was introduced to the paintball gun.

But that's a story for another day.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Ding Dong

Did you know you can buy a light that can hook up to your doorbell so that when someone comes to your house lights will flash? Wouldn't that be great? No? Well, that's how most Deaf people do it.

I say most because we don't have one of those. I leave it to Hubs to get what he needs. He apparently doesn't see the need, so we don't have strobes going off whenever anyone rings the bell. (Ring my beee...eee..eeelll. Ring my bell! Sorry, I couldn't resist a little jingle.)

"How does Hubs know someone is at your door?" you may ask.

Well, he doesn't.

Okay, that's not entirely true. If I am home, he will see me run to the door. If I am not there he will see the kids run to the door. If he is home alone, he will see the dog run to the door.

We are his own little personal strobes.

However, in the rare case that no-one is strobbing, then he sits there, unaware that someone wants in. You may peek through the window and see him sitting there. But unless he sees you, he isn't going to be opening the door for you.

No problem, just come in.

It's the Deaf way. First you ring. Then you peek in the window. If you see them, you try the door. If it is open, you reach in and find the light switch and proceed to flick it on and off until it gets their attention. If it does not, then you walk into their line of sight and wave your arms. If that doesn't work, just sneak up behind them and put them in a choke hold. They really like that. A lot.

If the door is locked, you can kick the door with your foot to see if you can make enough of a vibration to get their attention. If that doesn't work, you should try what Hubs' friend did.

One day, when Hubs was on his mission, he met up with a member of the church to talk to a Deaf man who was interested in the church. When they got to the door, there was no bell. They peeked in the window and there the man sat, watching TV, with his back to the window.

They tried waving. No good. They tried kicking. Nope. They even tried throwing spit wads at the guy through the window. That's just lovely. But wait.

Just then, the member says, "You might want to stand back. I am a black belt in karate. I can get us in." Not sure what he was going to do, Hubs stepped back.

The man stood in front of the door, closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled out. Then he drew back his arm and proceeded to put his fist through the door. As in all the way through the door. I am not sure what he was trying to do. Maybe knock the door open? Down? But I am pretty sure he wasn't trying to make a hole in the door.

He did, however, succeed in getting the man's attention. Mission accomplished.

So if ever you want to visit when Hubs is home, please keep your karate skills to yourself and just walk in.

My door thanks you.

The apple of my eye!

"Who does that?" my friend asked with disgust in her voice.

"What?" I turned to see what she was looking at.

There, at the far end of the park was what appeared to be a teenager with his back towards us, his front directly facing a tree, one that was rapidly getting it's trunk "watered."

"Here!?? At the park? Does he not see that there are children at play here???" I asked.

You never know the kind of people you are going to run into at the park. Men, and I mean really old men, who like to run with their shirts off and do aerobic exercises in the middle of the day. Broken hearted teenagers who have nothing better to do but write hate notes on the benches to someone who will probably never see their art work.

It's one thing if it's a 3 year old or 5 year old or even an 8 year old who wets a bush every now and again. But a teenager? Really?

"He walked here so he can't live that far away. If you have to go, just walk home...geez! I bet if his mother knew..." I started.

"Wait," she interrupted. "Isn't that your son?"

I've never been more proud.

Ever.