Angela pretty much introduced herself before she actually wrote anything else in her guest post…so I won’t blab much.  I somehow forget those kinds of important details, like my name.  I’ll be halfway into a conversation with a total stranger when I’m all, “Oh. Shit. Yah. Hi. I’m Jessica.”  Apparently, my name isn’t what I’d consider a “vital” piece of data…but that’s just me.  Anyhow, Angela and I are *kind of* related because we were both pretty much robbed from the cradle.  Yah. Awesome. I know.

Here’s Angela, who remembers the important information way before I would:

Hi all, my name is Angela and I publish two blogs, Lawgirl and Fattie Fatterton.  I have been reading Booshy for some time now and Jessica was kind enough to let me do a guest post while she’s off punishing her body running her marathon. 

Like Jessica and Tim, there is an age difference between my Future Hubby and myself.  Unlike Jessica and Tim, ours is a lot bigger – over 25 years. 

We didn’t plan on falling in love, not with that age difference, but it happened and now we can’t imagine our lives without each other.  But the age difference does cause its share of issues sometimes.

For example, when he says, do you remember such-and-such, I can say, I wasn’t born yet.  However, just the difference between men and women can cause issues, too, as I’m sure most of you know.

Future Hubby has the mind of an engineer and can fix anything.  He loves to take things apart to see how they work.  He actually enjoys math.   I have the mind of a trophy wife of a philosopher an English major.  One day he was trying to explain to me how something in my car worked. I finally stopped him and said,

“This is how I see it.  The car works…or it doesn’t.  Everything in between is what I have you for.”

There was also the time that he was going to fix my mom’s thermostat to her furnace.  He needed me to ask her some questions over the phone.  He told me the questions.  I asked my mom in a different way (I didn’t understand the questions.)  He started laughing and said,“Getting you to do something is like a monkey <bleeping> a football – he has no idea which end is right.”

I have to admit that I laughed for a good hour over that one, as he’s right.  If I’m not interested in the subject matter, then I can’t remember a thing about it.  But if you ask me to, I could recite entire movies to you. 

“Jackson said, Shelby, don’t be stupid.  There’s lots of kids out there who need good homes.  We’ll adopt ten of them.  We’ll buy ‘em if we have to.”

“Jackson sounds like good people to me” (and why Olympia Dukakis decided to channel John Wayne for this movie role I’ll never know.)

“Yeah” (said tearfully).

FH does some of the grocery shopping for us at a regular grocery store.  I do the rest at Whole Foods.  However, he was unable to go last week due to an injury he received on the ice (he fell down HARD).  So I went for him on Monday. 

He had to write out the list for me.  He has the handwriting of a serial killer.  But I have grown accustomed to reading it now.  I was confused by this though:

Stuffing

Chicken

Cock

Cat food

Hmmm, one of these things is not like the other.  I stood in the store and tried to figure it out.  I wanted to call him, but he was at work and so I just kept staring at it.

Had he been in a hurry and meant to write “Coke” instead?  Unlikely, since he had written about soda pop down the list.

Finally I gave up and I skipped it.  When he arrived home that night I pointed it out.  He said:

“That was supposed to be cocktail sauce, but you kept interrupting me with kisses so I lost my train of thought.”

Suuuuuuure it was.  Cocktail sauce.  Paging Dr. Freud?