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Done Painting.

Well, I survived the week without my husband though it had it’s bumps in the road. Any single moms out there who read this; I tip my hat to you. The couple of days (and one night) we spent at camp were a comedy of errors which I won’t go into except to say I won’t be doing that again. The company was lovely but so not worth the crabby boys and terrible night’s sleep. The one thing that I was tasked to do was to tell a story that I had written for campfire. My husband is so smart he decided that the kids don’t need a sermon at ten o’clock at night they’re too tired by then and to do story telling instead to teach a lesson. Totally cool! So I wrote three of them and read the first one the night we were there. You would think a 31 year old wouldn’t be intimidated to read her own stories to a bunch of Jr. Higher’s but you would be wrong, I was SO NERVOUS. I think it went well and was glad that I did it. (I’m hoping to post the story on a neat fiction site soon so I’ll keep you posted with a link if your at all interested. It’s about night diving in the upper peninsula).

Anyway…. The rest of the week was fine. I got the painting done and have moved into the fun part of organizing and decorating (no the paint isn’t what I envisioned but yes I do like it). The kids were good and bad and normal. Friday finally arrived in a whirlwind of cleaning to make my husband glad to come home. I then showered used fancy soap and even shaved my legs. I dressed up in a new skirt and a cheery yellow top. I wanted to look good for my husband.

Now, you may be thinking “why?” Surely your husband will be scruffy and grubby after a week of camp. All true, but there is something about the rugged man that’s nice once-in-a-while especially if you haven’t seen him for a week. Besides I’m the wife of a youth minister I am prepared for all manner of things such as a shaved head, dyed hair, a weird beard etc. (This may be confusing to you non-youth-minister-husband-wives but it has been long understood that in order to get your students motivated to memorize stuff or raise money you must sacrifice your body and especially hair).

I pulled into camp and longingly searched for my dear husband and then I saw him and then… I SAW him… and then he tried to kiss me… with… a… mullet. A real one. Unfortunately his hair does that feathery 80’s thing naturally and he looked like he loved it and he kept shaking his head to feel the back flow. Um, it was uncomfortable and not really um attractive at all. I actually thought, “I shaved for this?” Not to get too personal but this a blog about real stuff you know. If you think my husband wouldn’t want me getting so personal your right. However, I know that my husband doesn’t actually read my blog and instead does computer magic and searches for his name to see if he needs to read a sentence here or there. That’s why I’ve been using the phrase “my husband”. This kills two birds; gives you a funny story to read and is a great way to punish him for not reading the blog and for having a mullet (in a truly passive aggressive fashion).

And, in case you were wondering, he’s at the barber as we speak.

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