View From the Bushes

My wife is leaving me. Unfortunately, she's not taking the kids. Okay, that's not entirely true: she's taking the youngest, but if I could lactate she'd be leaving her as well. She's promised me that she'd come back, but I have a secret fear that if she ever got in a solid 24 hours without the kids or (especially) me, that it would be like Paul on the road to Damascus. A whole new world free of diapers, uncontrollable crying, messy high chairs and tantrums would be revealed, and those are just the advantages of getting rid of me, to say nothing of the children. She's leaving at around 4:00 this afternoon and has promised to be back by 3:00 tomorrow. I'm hoping that the difference between 23 hours and 24 hours will be enough to avert catastrophe.

My mother and my sisters, who have always liked my wife better than me (even before I met my wife, which should tell you something), started this annual pilgrimage to the factory stores up in Park City (for those unfamiliar with the are think Robert Redford and the Sundance Film Festival). They go out to a nice restaurant, watch "chick flicks" till the wee hours of the morning and then go on shopping spree that would have the Hilton Sisters asking for pointers. Apparently they also spend quite a bit of time discussing their husbands' flaws. That activity alone could easily consume a week or more, but I think in order to fit it all in they limit everyone to only discussing issues where the man cost over $2000 or committed a felony.

Did you ever see that Simpsons where Marge has a gambling problem? (Favorite quote: Joblessness is not just for philosophy majors anymore. Useful people are starting to feel the pinch.) She spends all her time at the casino, leaving Homer at home with the kids. Bart comes and tells Homer that he may have seen the Boogyman. When Marge arrives home she finds the windows boarded up and Homer and the kids behind the overturned couch with a gun. That's what tonight is going to be like. Wish me luck.

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Ross