S–t My Husband Says volume Vllll

“Really? How Old Are You?”  A rhetorical question, and yet there are many a situation when all I can do is ask it and shake my head in wonder and disbelief.
John and I have been doing a fair bit of hiking (and by fair bit – I mean once a week). There are some decent trails throughout our community that we can access directly from our lot. The paths are maintained to the extent of removing fallen trees, but the footing can be steep and rocky in many places. Usually I find a branch along the path and use it to give myself some stability. So this weekend, we were out for a short hike, and I mentioned that I think we should purchase walking poles.

I have been doing some research and it shows that the use of a walking pole improves balance, reduces the risk of falls, and improves endurance, energy and posture. All qualities that I can use help with.

John: “Great idea – then we can have sword fights!”

Laurie: “Really? Tell me again how old you are.”
John: ” And in the event of a bear attack – we can use the poles as a defense weapon.”

Laurie: “Let’s just forget about the walking poles – they aren’t to be used by persons under the age of 8.”

S–t My Husband Says – volume VIII

Spoiler Alert – Don’t read any further if you believe a house elf or some other imaginary character cleans your home.

I had just got home from work.

John: Do you have any idea how long it takes to clean a bathroom?

Me: Are you kidding? No – I have no clue how long it takes to clean a bathroom.

Apparently my sarcasm wasn’t clearly identifiable, as John proceeded to tell me that it took him over half an hour to wipe the whole room down. It had been a thoroughly exhausting task.

Not really sure who he believes has cleaned our bathrooms for the past 24 years? The house-cleaning fairy?

Silly me – I must have forgot to send her one of our change of address cards.

S–t My Husband Says – volume Vll

The sanity of my days is often a roller-coaster ride. Lots of ups and downs, with a straight-away thrown in there every now and then to lull me into a false sense of serenity before the next stomach turning drop. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted to S–t My Husband Says – and so I thought maybe we had found an exit off the whack track. Wrong – just a lull.

Driving along the North Shore, you see the occasional hitch-hiker. Young surf people from the beaches carrying their boards, looking for a ride. Which is what sparked this bizarre discussion:

John: “You know that if we picked up a hitch-hiker who turned out to be a deranged killer, you would likely not survive.”

Me: I am pretty sure normal couples don’t have conversations like this, but here goes: “Why wouldn’t I survive? I assume you believe you would remain alive?”

John: “Well, if I picked up the crazy hitch-hiker without you in the vehicle, he would be sitting in the passenger seat. When he pulled the knife or gun on me, I would speed up and crash into a tree or a cement blockade. The airbags would deploy, and provide a distraction, allowing me to escape.”

Me: “Fine, but why wouldn’t that work for me?”

John: ” If we pick up a hitch-hiker with both of us in the vehicle, he would have to sit in the backseat behind you (because the other passenger seat has been laid down to accommodate his golf clubs). When the hitch-hiker pulls his weapon, he will probably use you as the hostage – hold a knife to your neck. When I go through with my plan to crash into something – the impact could cause him to slit your throat. If he is thrown back into the seat without killing you, the airbag would hurt you. Doubtful that you would be strong enough to escape from the car.

Me: “Nice that you are so optimistic, so let’s just go with our current rule of not picking up hitch-hikers. If for some reason, we MUST pick someone up – let’s ask them if they plan to murder us before we let them in the vehicle. Just to be safe, I will voluntarily give up the passenger seat to the hitch-hiker and I will sit in the backseat to ensure my survival.”

I am becoming convinced that we won’t be pulling off this absurd conversation racetrack anytime soon – because we are the pace-car.

S–t My Husband Says – volume V

“Do you want to go to the gym with me?” asked John this morning.

No further explanation required.

FUN

When we moved off the farm, we did a serious purge of our belongings and saved only necessities and personal items such as clothes, photo albums and pictures. All of our kept articles were packed into Rubbermaid containers and stored in a utility trailer parked at the home of friends who live outside Winnipeg.
Last week, John announced that he thought we should rent a U-Haul moving truck and drive our meagre belongings (including towing his fishing boat) out to our storage locker in Vernon BC. He said “it will be – fun”.
In case you don’t know us well, in a few many of our situations, fun can often be described as
F – freaking
U – unbearable
N – nightmares

It actually wasn’t too horrible. The truck was relatively new and fairly comfortable. The only nuisance was that it was very loud in the cab. The elevated noise decibel level prevented any and all conversation. Which really wasn’t the worst thing – let’s be honest. John and I just travelled across Canada together, so we are running out of topics to chat about. As such, I got in some serious book time! When it got too dark to read, I figured I’d catch a bit of shut-eye (I have never had any difficulty falling asleep in a vehicle.) The rattling in the cab provided background white noise. All was fine until I was jolted awake with John yelling “Are you asleep?”

Just having fun.

We made it to BC in one piece. All our possessions are in storage, ready to be moved into the house next spring. Construction is coming along nicely – we were happy to see that it was all framed in before winter comes.

S–t My Husband Says – volume llll

I need to preface this post with the disclaimer that I am not a princess or a marshmallow (as my sister-in-law might say).  One of my true enjoyments in life is having a nice hot, relaxing soak in a bathtub – something I have desperately been missing while living in the RV.  So when we spend an occasional night in a hotel – taking a bath is a luxury I take advantage of.  Travelling to BC, we had a layover in Calgary and stayed at our regular hotel:  Best Western Freemont – a great hotel with a delicious complimentary breakfast.  We checked in and went up to our room – they had upgraded us to a king suite, which was so very nice.  BUT – no bathtub!  I just couldn’t accept not being able to have a bath, so I sent John down to the front desk to ask for a different room with a tub.  I didn’t need a suite – just a bathtub.  After a few moments, there was a knock on the door.  It was the hotel manager who was looking to collect something from the room.   She said that my husband was down at the front desk changing rooms.  I replied that while we appreciated the upgrade, I really wanted a room with a bathtub.  The manager responded ” Yes, your husband explained about your condition.  He should be back up shortly.”

My condition?  I wasn’t aware of any condition, so when he got back to the room, I asked John what she was talking about? 

He says: ” I jokingly told them that we needed a different room that had a bathtub because you have leprosy.  But I was just kidding – I did explain that we were living in a RV with only a shower.”

What a jokester.  He clarifies that we live in a trailer with no tub, but not about the fact that his wife DOES NOT have leprosy.  How many people actually find leprosy funny?  Just John.

S–t My Husband Says – volume lll

I am thinking of changing this category to S–t My Husband Says or Does. We moved our RV to a campground near Moncton today. John went into the office to register, and as he was walking back toward the truck – I saw him stop outside the door to chat with an elderly gentleman. This is nothing unusual – a lot of people see our Manitoba license plate and want to talk about what we are doing in the area.
I wasn’t concerned until I saw John pull his wallet from his pocket and he handed the senior citizen $20.
A bribe for a better camp site?
A bet on a horse race?
Down payment for a mafia hit-man?
None of the above. John’s new business associate opened up the truck of his car and handed John a package of EGG ROLLS.
Not a typo – my husband purchased a bag of 20 “home-made”, fresh egg rolls from a Caucasian geriatric salesman in the parking lot of a campground in New Brunswick.

Dim Sum anyone?

S–t My Husband Says – volume ll

We didn’t pre-book any camping spots for our US trip, as we were unsure how far we would drive each day. Last night we made it into Indiana, and searched the Good Sam website for RV parks close by. It showed that there was a park in a town called New Carlisle that had drive-through spots for larger units: perfect for us. Following the GPS directions, the RV park seemed to be further off the interstate than we initially thought, but after 20 minutes it showed the park just ahead. The only thing separating us from the RV park was a bridge – a bridge that was obviously too low for our unit to travel under. No road signage anywhere about height restrictions. Fortunately, there was a driveway just behind us and John was able to back up into it and turn around. We decided to travel through town and get on a major highway. Nice little town, but guess what was at the exit of Main Street – a freaking bridge. Another low bridge that we couldn’t make it under! Obviously the town of New Carlisle has never heard about warning signs. Unfortunately this time we were on a busy street, and the closest approach was about 500 meters behind us.
So John says to me:
You need to get out on the street and stop all the traffic that is approaching behind us so I can reverse.
Be careful that you don’t get hit by oncoming vehicles that pass the RV.
You need to direct me back up the street, and look for a suitable spot for me to back up into.
Stay in my line of vision, and don’t trip or I might back over you.
Yikes – I was supposed to direct traffic including a reversing RV while avoiding being injured/killed by an erratic driver. The no tripping part was difficult enough.
John was able to get backed up away from the bridge, and turned around. We headed back to the interstate and checked into the nearest La Quinta Inn for the night.

S–t My Husband Says – volume l

S–t My Husband Says is going to be a new category of posts in this blog. You will note that I have labelled it volume l – this is because I have no doubt that there will be many more future entries.

John and I are spending a few days in Jasper (which I will post about later this week) and we decided to drive around to scout out some wildlife. We never have any problems finding the animals, but taking clear photos of moving animals from inside the truck routinely proves to be a challenge. Last night we came across a small black bear on an embankment at the edge of the road. I tried to lean out the window to get a decent picture, but the berm was in the way.
And so:
John: Why don’t you just get out of the truck to take the picture?
Me: No bloody way. You get out and take the picture.
John: I am the driver and you are the photographer. Here’s a plan – if the bear decides to charge at you, lay down on the road and I will run over you with the truck.
Me: Those are fantastic options: be attacked by a bear or run over by a truck. Thanks for nothing.
John: I am not going to hit you with the truck. If you lay flat enough, you should fit underneath the truck. I will drive the truck OVER you, and you can hide there until the bear leaves.
Me: I don’t think so, but thanks for thinking of me.
These are the best picture that I could get from inside the cab.

Today:
John: I have been thinking about the bear plan, and I feel like there needs to be a secondary strategy.
Me: What bear plan?
John: The one where I run over you with the truck.
Me: I had already forgotten about that idea, but since I don’t foresee myself getting out of the truck EVER to take picture of bears, I really don’t think we need to make any revisions.
John: Well, what happens if we encounter a bear while we are out hiking?
Me: That would be why I am insisting that we walk only on well populated trails – to avoid bears.
John: BUT if we do encounter a bear, I am going to sprint to the vehicle. If the ground is pretty level, I will bring the truck back and run over you.
Me: Super, and what should I do if the terrain is too rocky or you can’t get back to me in time.
John: You should try to provoke the bear. Hopefully it will swat at your head and knock you unconscious. That way you won’t feel anything when it mauls you.
Me: Thanks Grizzly Adams.