Yeah, it's me, the husband, the oft-mentioned hubby of . . . of . . . . well, what does she call herself here? Oh, I'll just call her a made up name, like Liz. Yeah, so Liz, as you may as well know, has gone on a trip to Pennsylvania to visit a long-lost friend of her for five whole days. I was, uhm, blessed, with the opportunity of taking care of all five of our kids, by myself, for the entire time.
I asked Liz if I could write a post in her blog while she was gone, sort of like a "guest columnist" or one of those expert talking heads on CNN or something. She said I could, but then I started thinking about the audience. I'm assuming that most readers of MICD are a lot like Liz--beautiful, sophisticated, sexy, intelligent, spiritual, engaging, etc. What do I really have to say to such an audience that would be meaningful? The things I like are probably not exactly "top of mind" for such people. Does anyone here really care about stochastic calculus? Mortgage-backed securities? Interest rate risk management? When I threatened that I would write about those things, Liz just said "you do whatever you want!" which is a wife-euphemism for "it's your funeral!"
I'm actually completely new to this whole blogging thing. People have asked me if I have a blog, and I usually say, "would you read it if I did?" After a few stunned, awkward seconds they stumble out something like "uh, well, uhh, of COURSE I would!!!!" Uh-huh, sure, right. They already know the kind of things I'm interested in and would write about.
But, here goes anyway. As we near the end of, what did I call it? Oh yeah, blessed occasion, I thought I'd give you, her devoted supporters and virtual friends a little glimpse into the life of what life looks like when you let the dad take care of things for nearly a whole week by himself:
Yes, that pic's for real. That's the view from my front porch the very first day Liz left for PA. She had been gone for nary a day when some guy drove a 1971 Chevy pickup truck in front of my house in flames. He partially blocked my van (unseen on right) so I couldn't even have moved it, assuming I had 1. thought of moving my van out of harm's way and 2. wasn't holding a baby. By the time the fire department showed up the truck was pretty much a fireball. The firemen were great, though, they gave it a blast with a high pressure hose and steam, debris, and shattered glass blew everywhere, all over my van, and all the way up to my front porch. After the smoke cleared and the water drained away, all that was left was a blackened shell of what resembled a pickup truck. Fortunately, the driver, my van, fence, and everyone else were unscathed.
OK, so I won't bother really going on a day-by-day basis, because I believe that day 1 pretty much sums things up so well. I usually am not one to believe in omens or anything, but a flaming truck in your front yard? C'mon! That HAS to mean something!! Mothers, DON'T leave your husband at home alone with all the kids for five days! You've been warned!