My husband is quiet. I am not.
My husband is introverted. I am not.
My husband APPEARS to be polished and refined. I am not, nor do I appear to be.
My husband also APPEARS to be passive. He. Is. Not.
He is in no Way, Shape, or Form passive. Passivity is not in his nature. He just flat out doesn’t care. That is because he is an energy conservationist. An EMOTIONAL energy conservationist.
Not only does he conserve actual energy, (just ask the kids about, “The lights!!! Who left on all those lights?!?!?!?”) he also conserves his OWN energy. That is, he conserves it for things about which he cares deeply. Which would include ANYTHING to do with Truth, Justice, and the
American Texan way. And also the Oilers. And Rules. And anything to do with Scouting. Or camping. Or PREPARING for camping. And crabbing. And also organizing a chuck box. And a sock drawer. And a spread sheet. And the Right Way to Do Things.
People often get the mistaken idea that because I wear the megaphone in the family that I also wear the pants. This could not be farther from the truth. My husband’s role as Paterfamilias goes down to the molecular level. I’m talking highly organized, color coded strands of DNA here.
I give you two completely random series of photos. One set taken October, 2009. The other taken April 2011. It was as I was preparing to post some of these newer photos just moments ago that I thought, “Hey–haven’t I edited this photo before?” Then it hit me.
Don’t even get me STARTED on the shoulder droop, the wear pattern of their shoes, or the inner workings of their analytical, PRAGMATIC minds.
There are other photos I wanted to post here as well–especially since I’ve been absent for so long–but I just scared and exhausted myself at the same time–especially with exhibit C. I think I need to go and lie down now.