April 2, 2008

So we were sitting at supper tonight, discussing the fact that we’re probably NOT moving to Arizona anymore.  Yeah.  And the reason why I have not mentioned the possible move is because I have been in denial.  About deserts.  And extreme heat.  And rattlesnakes.  And extreme heat.  And the heat?  Did I mention that?  Another reason why I did not share this information is because, ya know, I don’t share ALL there is to know about my life here.  Because I just don’t know that you could handle the reality of it all, to be quite honest.  I mean, I DO share the Stinky Diaper stories, and the Boys Will Be Boys stories, and the Flooding Basement stories, and the Vomit stories.  But what I DON’T share is……..wait…….let me think……..Oh.  I guess I DO share everything.  Probably too much, huh? 

On Valentine’s Day, we were notified in a roundabout way that my husband was number one on the list to be picked to move to Arizona.  Because that’s how the military lets you know that they love and appreciate you.  They send you Almost-Orders to exotic locations like Arizona.  You know…..the Arizona that has a base in the desert.  Right in the middle.  Where there is really bad heat.  And none of those lovely, cozy, gray, drizzly days that I love because I get to spend a couple seconds dreaming about what I would be doing if I wasn’t the mother of 9 on a day like that.  Sleeping and reading.  With chocolate nearby.  That’s what I would be doing.


We were discussing that even though we probably got out of that assignment, we would most likely be looking to volunteer for an overseas assignment come June.  And I was talking about how cool it would be to end our Air Force career in a place like Italy or Germany or England or Germany.  And how THIS time, if we got to go to Europe, we would actually have children old enough to remember the experience!  Instead of them just remembering the bidet we had in our bathroom there.  

And our oldest son let us know that he was NOT happy with the turn of events.  That it would NOT be cool to go across the ocean because, like, how would he be able to hunt?  Because people who speak other languages OBVIOUSLY do not hunt!  I mean, duh! 

So my husband and I set him straight with an explanation of how hunting happens in England.  We told him he’d have to have a tophat and wear knickers and speak with a British accent and hunt foxes.  Right, British Readers?  That’s how they do it there, right?  And then they go home to their castles and drink tea with their pinky fingers sticking out.  

And he so was not having it.  He thought hunting was only an American hobby, apparently.  Like baseball.  Or gangster graffiti.  (WHAT is with me and gangsters today?)

And I think the knicker thing scared him.  Unless, of course, we can locate camo knickers at Cabella’s before we go.   And a neon orange tophat.


9 Responses to “Suppertime”

  1. Mama said

    Camo knickers at Cabellas – now THERE’S a thought. And don’t you just SO know they’ll have them! You’re funny!

  2. Tina said

    Well, as a recent addict to your blog I think it would be GREAT if you moved to England with me! I am not crazy, I swear. Then, you could meet my father-in-law and he would stop thinking I am nuts for having 4 kids! ha ha. There’s a good reason, huh?

  3. Kristen said

    That would be awesome to end up overseas!!

  4. Susan said

    What a neat experience this would be for your children. I don’t want to see you go oversees because then we will probably not be visiting you guys.

  5. Amy said

    “That’s how they do it there, right? And then they go home to their castles and drink tea with their pinky fingers sticking out. ”

    That is funny! Laugh out loud funny!:)
    Have a blessed day.

  6. M said

    Well, I guess that sums up that at least England does not have good hunting for him!! But, what about Germany? I bet he would have a reason why hunting was not good there, too.

  7. Mindy said

    Hey! That’s good news! Another overseas assignment would be great for you guys–but not for us. :o)

  8. Heather said

    I don’t think I would care where we went as long as it absolutely, without a doubt, was NOT Arizona! That is an awful place with no hope for rain, snow, or even cool weather! YUK!

    (Unless you happen to live there and are reading this comment! Then, Arizona is not a ‘horrible’ place…it’s actually quite nice and the people there….well….they are the BEST:)

    Love and Blessings….

  9. Patti said

    OK, here’s a funny English hunting story for your son: My husband’s friend from work was invited to go pheasant hunting (already, really posh) with some British friends. So, on the day of, he shows up in traditional American hunting garb (jeans, plaid shirt, baseball hat, knock about boots) and was humiliated to find that everyone was dressed for hunting. English style. Coat, vest (one says waist coat here), tie, knee trousers (pants = knickers=underware). They arrived in newly washed Range Rovers and before the hunt, did the traditional sherry toast. This is 100% a true story. So see, lots of hunting to be had overseas…just bring your tux!

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