Today’s guest post is from Marj Hatzell.
I’ve got a secret and I’m gonna tell you because I’m awesome like that. And it won’t be a secret anymore but hey! Humor me! Pretend it’s all scandalous and No waaaaay and stuff. I’m a fragile little flower and my emotional balance depends on it. Well, that and caffeine. But humor me, mmkay?
My husband is a Dukes fan. I KNOW. No, not the royalty-in-Britain kind. The General-Lee-Driving Kind. He’s a car guy and he’s also a small-town-rural type of guy. No doubt he should have been reared in the South in Georgia or Tennessee with his Uncle (no, he really has family down there. But it’s Uncle Kenny, not Uncle Jesse) instead of the big, bad city suburbs of Philadelphia with his culture-loving mother and grand mother. I’m fairly certain that at one time, he had a relative that drove a wrecker, too (that’s what they call them down below the Mason-Dixon Line, y’all). Though there was no hot cousin in booty shorts. I think.
Dude loves cars. LOVES THEM. He knows more about cars than I know about my own elbow. That’s saying something because my elbow? I spend tons of time with it, rubbing lemons and lotion on it and stuff. What, you don’t rub lemons on it? It’s supposed to be good for them. But really I just like to pretend I do something healthy for my skin and lemons are fruit and fruit are healthy! Yeah!
Where was I? Right. Cars.
So he likes cars. Since we’ve been together (fifteen years of marriage and four years of dating. That’s like, nineteen years, for those of you not good at math) we’ve owned, and I kid you not, eleven cars. And before that, he owned eleven cars. That’s twenty two cars, if you’re not good at math. Twenty-two cars. In nineteen years. That’s a lot of cars (NO! Silly, not all at the same time!) And every two years or so I cringe because I know IT is coming. Obsessive Internet car shopping. Driving by car lots on Sundays when no one is there. The yearly new car show. That’s when all signs point to, “I think I’m going to trade this one in and get _____.” But we’ve never owned a Charger (the Duke Mobile), which is pretty much mandatory if you are going to live like a Duke. We haven’t owned one YET, that is. SOMEONE I know was lingering near the new Chargers for an awfully long time at the car show last week. And I may or may not admit to the fact that we’ve owned just a few jeeps.
And in case you’re all, “So what? My husband likes cars, too!” I’ll prove we’re living in the parallel Duke Universe by casually mentioning that our older son? Is named Luke. That’s right. He was gonna be Andrew and I liked Luke (because I’m an obsessive Star Wars Fan. Yes, I’m a nerdy geek) and the husband was all, “Sure! Luke!” And when I surprisingly became preggers with number two? He suggested Bo. And I said, “Oh. HAHAHA! Good one!” And he was all, “What? I’m not joking! And if it’s a girl, what about Daisy?” AND HE WAS TOTALLY SERIOUS. And I liked Daisy because I like flowers and thought that would be cute. But it was a boy. And we named him Ian because I knew my kids would face a lifetime of ridicule being named after moonshine-running cousins. Who can’t ever leave the county. Unless they jump a washed out bridge over the gully.
And if that isn’t enough proof that we’ve got a Duke problem, the puppy we got in August? HER NAME IS DAISY.
Marj isn’t a writer but she plays one on TV. She’s a Domestic Engineer,Total Babe, and SAHM of two boys with Autism, ADHD and a variety of other acronyms. Marj was picked last for dodge ball in grade school, was a band geek (she played the flute, and one time, at band camp…), and prefers dogs more than people, which means she has STELLAR social skills.You can find her at her non-paying day job, the wildly unsuccessful blog The Domestic Goddess, at Twitter, and on Facebook.
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