DailySusan Humor Blog

SUNDAY: RADIANT BEAMS

Boy! I . . . I Say . . . Boy!

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies.
-- Song of Solomon 6:3

It was our 10th wedding anniversary, in early January. Our children were 4, 3 and 1 month. Our home was a seven-layer salad: Christmas gifts, newspapers, toys, laundry, mail, new diapers, old diapers . . . utter chaos.

My husband was so noise-assaulted and sleep-deprived, he looked like Humphrey Bogart pulling the African Queen through the leech-infested swamp.

I was a housecoat-wrapped, zombie-like, breastfeeding Dairy Queen since, speaking of leeches, our latest baby whopper seemed to want to top off her tank 24 / 7.

It was coooooold, too. So no, I didn't FEEL like going out to dinner and anyway . . . AA-OO-GAH!!! Lash me to the mast! Here comes another postpartum hormone hurricane!

Tell you what, he suggested. I'll take the two older kids to Burger King and feed them and let them play in there 'til they’re tuckered out. Then I'll get some takeout from that good Italian restaurant and pick up a video. We can put them all to bed, and have a peaceful dinner and movie together at home.

What a man! What a plan!

The baby fell asleep shortly after they left. I ran the Zamboni through the house, folded last month's laundry, and read an entire week's newspapers in a bubble bath.

When they got home, I was a noodle of bliss, with toys and unmatched socks completely removed from my hair, smiling serenely as we put the children to bed.

It was time for our private party.

I was famished. What culinary delights had my stalwart provider brought in that big takeout sack? What romantic movie had he selected to kindle the flames of matrimonial desire?

But noooooo.

The restaurant had forgotten everything in that sack EXCEPT the hors d'oeuvres: six little itty bitty toasted ravioli. They forgot the salads, breadsticks and entrees. At least there were mass quantities of dipping sauce for the ravioli. But that was it.

Meanwhile, the movie he'd gotten was . . . not Kevin Costner . . . not Tom Cruise . . . but FOGHORN LEGHORN.

Sixty minutes of cartoons featuring a blathering, rednecked, Southern-fried rooster. You know, the one who yells, ''Boy! I . . . I say . . . Boy!''

He thought I'd think they were funny.

I looked at him. He looked at me. He could go back for the rest of the food. But it was sooooo cold out.

We sighed.

We cut those six itty bitty toasted ravioli into itty bittier pieces, and put them on plates. They looked lonesome. We carried them to the TV, turned on Foghorn Leghorn, speared each little ravioli molecule with a single fork tine, and took turns dipping them in the sauce. At least there was plenty of sauce.

No waltzes, no sparkling diamonds, no moonlit walk on a Caribbean beach. Just molecules and rooster jokes.

You can see why it was another dozen years before our next child was born. Just kidding.

But fast-forward now to our latest anniversary, our 26th.

We were going to a swank soiree. He would be in white tie and tails. I got a smashing black dress with caviar beading. Posh!

He was ready to go -- nothing new there -- when I came down the stairs.

Our eyes locked.

Dang! We looked GOOD!

I forgot all about the hassles and headaches of 26 years of marriage. I saw the silver hair I'd caused, the broad shoulders I'd cried on, and the hand that had held mine back when necessary, and guided it forward, too.

Dang! He looked GOOOOOOOD!

My heart went plippety-plop, just like at our wedding. I knew I'd gotten far more than just the hors d'oeuvres in my sack that day. It might not have come to me exactly in the form I expected, like that wacky anniversary. But in marriage, yep, I got the whole meal deal.

With a rooster like this, I was one lucky hen.

Boy! I . . . I say . . . Boy!

How 'bout we slip out after the dance, and split a little old toasted ravioli?

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Prayer request: Father, there's a longtime married couple in our area who are considering a divorce. We plead for Your gracious intervention to bring them back together. Help them see that You gave them to each other for a lot of good reasons, and they can work out their problems successfully, together, for their good and Your glory. (1 Corinthians 13:7)

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Susan Darst Williams, www.DailySusan.blogspot.com, is a writer, wife and mother of four who lives at the base of Mount Laundry, Nebraska.

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