Been an interesting couple of days. Not that I needed any proof that my husband
loves and trusts me, but if I ever did, I have it now.
Friday night,
Rudder told me he had "something" he had to pick up -- it hadn't been ready when
he'd originally bought it, and he'd thought he'd have to get it Saturday, but it
was ready for Friday. He'd made an appointment to get it at 7:30. Given the timing
and the fact that he's not usually mysterious, of course I thought it was
something for me -- jewelry or something that could be custom ordered. While he
went to get that, I went off to Michael's to see if I could find some way to wrap
his presents, one very large and one more an idea than an actual present.
(Actually, chatting before I left, I figured out how to wrap the one; printed on
an appropriate shape and tucked in an appropriate guidebook. (He's in the room as
I type this.) In case anyone needed to know this (SwooP, you there?) 7:30 on a
Friday night is an ideal time to visit Michael's. The place was deserted (amazing,
since it's opposite our local mall) and all the wrapping paper and ornaments were
on sale, 50% off. I ended up spending way too much on paper, candles, and a few
more icicle ornaments there and at the Pier 1 next door. I suppose that means
their sales had the intended effects. Just doing my bit for the local
economy.
Then I got home and there was a dark orange BEHEMOTH in the
middle of my driveway! Turned out the "something" Rudder had to go get was the
href="http://www.hummer.com/hummerjsp/h2/index.jsp">Hummer H2 he's been
planning to buy. (NOTE: For himself, not for me!) I had wondered about that; he'd
been planning to purchase in a month or so, but then it turned out the price will
be going up by then and then the dealer called -- they had one in stock with all
the options he wanted. I figured he needed to decide on that soon, but he hadn't
mentioned it -- in retrospect I should have been suspicious.
He'd
parked it out front because the Behemoth, henceforth to be known as the Orange
Crush because it is the coppery color the dealer refers to as Sunset Orange
Metallic, is so big that he wanted to have me spotting when he drove it into the
garage the first time. There was some doubt as to whether the rack on top would
fit under the open garage door. I told him that before we did that, it was
necessary to take the new car for a joyride. So we went out and looked at some of
the Christmas lights before affirming that the Crush does, indeed, fit in our
garage. Barely.
He spent last night cleaning some other stuff out of
the way so now we can park it next to Zippy the Honda and even get the doors of
either vehicle open. Now when you open the door of our garage, you are greeted
with an in-your-face ferociously glowering grill. I need to post a
picture.
Yesterday we drove up to the town of Show Low, about three
hours away, just to buy a live Christmas tree reared at the proper altitude for
planting on our airpark proprety. We took my truck so we could stash the tree in
the pickup's bed. As it turned out, the biggest live trees they had were about 3'
tall, so we could have taken the Orange Crush. Given the size we were also glad we
had bought a regular cut tree, since that one is much bigger. We ended up buying
two, an Austrian Pine and a Colorado Blue Spruce. This is a Good Thing; we
checked the property on the way back and found that someone had completely
uprooted and tossed aside one of the biggest of the young trees we planted last
spring. At this time, the prime suspect is described as being about 7' tall, with
broad antlers and a taste for tree bark. Yes, there are elk in the
area.
After we got back, Rudder did the aforementioned garage-
clearing. I headed out to do some more food-shopping. My truck is not a good
shopping vehicle -- groceries left in the bed tumble and spill. The Civic works
well, but there are Special Things in the trunk I didn't want Rudder to see when
he helped me unload. Options: 1) don't let him help me unload, or at least get
everything out of the trunk myself. 2) Take the Crush. Rudder urged me to do the
latter, to take his new baby to the land of careering carts. (As he pointed out,
the Crush has brush guards, bumpers, and steps all aorund so at least a cart
couldn't scratch it.) And that, my friends, is how I know my husband loves me: He
let me drive his brand new truck. Without even having him along. Is that sweet or
what?