Today Marks 20 Years of Wedded…Well Now I’m Not Quite Sure What to Call This, Can I Buy A Vowel?

So, today is Clem’s and my 20th wedding anniversary, and not to be forgotten, the same for my folks. They’re celebrating 42 years this year. Way to go Mom and Dad! Wahoo! You’re still together after all this time! Ha!

Wow! So I guess that means extra fish oil pills for the both of you tonight to celebrate huh? Yay and blech!

Glad we’re not there to enjoy the aroma of stink while you enjoy chewing up those ginormous, exploding gelatinous pills full of fishy horror and blowing the putrid odor while you speak at us. You know Mom and Dad, people actually just swallow those. I know, you’re old and think you can get away with whatever the hell you want, but maybe try sitting on them. Yeah, might save us the agony if you just, well you know…shove them where the eaten pie meets the sky if you know what I mean. Love you! Enjoy your day!

Now that that’s over…I’m kidding! I love my folks! Life would be boring as hell if I didn’t have them in my life. They do the most outrageous shit and that’s the bulk of my entertainment…they do chew those huge ass fish pills that you buy in bulk at Costco and they think it’s funny as fuck to torture us when they do. True story. Happy anniversary to you two crazy old farts!

We’ve been together a while

Anyway, Clem and I have been partners in crime for over 24 years. Yes, 24 years. We were high school ‘sweethearts’ and started dating about a month before we both turned 16. We dated 3 years before Clem popped the question and we had a 14 month engagement before tying the knot and moving on with our life. Storybook, isn’t it? Not really.

Nope, no quickie wedding for us, although, I think it’d be fun to do it over again now that I’m older. More enjoyment and less sweating the small shit. Plus! We’d pay for it and do it how we’d like. Who knows, it could still happen…not likely, I’m not the dream wedding type. Far from it. It’s fun to dream though, isn’t it?

If I were to do it over, I wouldn’t replace the man, he’s a keeper. That, and I don’t have the energy to train another husband and work the ‘But my Mama (told me/taught me)‘ bullshit out of him for the many years it’d take, until he finally drops it and conforms to our compromised and equal way of doing things. Mama’s boys are tough cookies to crack, let me tell ya!

Training of that magnitude, takes forever! Years even! I still haven’t rid him of it all! I just don’t have the patience, and I’m too old for that Mama shit. We do it our own way here, not your fucking Mama’s way. Am I too harsh? Maybe…I think Clem is too afraid to tell me…

I had to concede to some of that ridiculous Mama garbage and a couple of my kitchen cupboards are still thoroughly arranged by size or usage. That, and my holey ginch is still delicately folded by Clem (when he does the laundry…I know! I’m spoiled, right?), and put away somewhat nicely in my dresser (I put it away…most days). Who does that? Yeah, I’m a bit of a slob. My underwear drawer isn’t on display, therefore I conclude that it really needn’t be folded. It’s a waste of a lifetime folding undies I say.

Marriage is work

I’m sure Clem would say the same thing about keeping me because he too would say he’s too old and lacks the energy to train another…I hope. I should really ensure that’s his answer because maybe one day I’ll wake up to find my holey undies tossed into a garbage bag, neatly placed within the back of my crusty minivan, with him wishing me bon voyagie while he ushers in his new, sweet undie folding hottie. I’d better not get too comfortable.

I’m certain he’d prefer a ginch folding, obsessive compulsive wife who organizes everything and caters to his obsessive compulsive side. I’m sure it’d be less stressful for him. I should ask. Not that I’m going to change or anything, I’m just curious. How he navigates the storm with me, I’ll never now. I feel for him.

Yeah, being married hasn’t been all roses and chocolates. What marriage is…wait, don’t answer that. If you’ve skipped all the fun shit that some of us married couples have had to wade through, well your day may come yet unfortunately. Keep your head up.

Actually, invest in some goggles and a Hazmat suit because shit splatters. That’s much better advice, I would know. I should really stop there. I may talk people out of actually getting married or being committed long term if I keep going on. Really, it’s not that bad…and no, my fingers aren’t crossed behind my back, honest.

At the very least, if you survive whatever it is that life throws at you and you’re still together after the fact, you’ll always have someone who understands you and will laugh at the memory of it all with you. With you is important here. I laugh, while Clem cries (or vice versa) but I am not laughing at him, I am laughing with him. See the difference there?

Yes, after going through some shit, you develop a very dark and morbid sense of humor and many won’t find you funny. I also know this first hand. Some people don’t find me funny at all, but Clem does! I think…

Another experience to add to our repertoire

Take our most recent experience for example. Yes, we’ve had another event while camping. If it isn’t exploding trailer batteries, it’s gotta be something else. Camping hasn’t gone as smoothly as I’d hoped, but that’s because I was an idiot and it’s all my fault, this time. At least I am admitting it. I recently dropped my phone into a lake. Yes, I said a lake. I cried and Clem laughed…after the fact.

If you really want to know if it’s true love, just conveniently drop your phone into a lake and see what comes of it. I’m kidding. Please don’t do that. I was a jackass because I broke one of the most sacred rules in my life, just by thinking it won’t happen to me. I figured, that because it hadn’t happened to me yet, it shouldn’t happen to me, even just this one time. I am a royal fucking dumbass.

Caelan and I took our paddle board down to the lake one evening to see if we could catch a glimpse of the beautiful painted turtles that reside within this beautiful gem of a place. After more than an hour of paddling around, we came up short and didn’t even see one single turtle turd. We decided to head to the dock to take the paddle board out of the water and go back to our camp for a campfire and S’Mores…I LOVE those bloody things. Eye on the prize people, eye on the prize.

Anyway, once Caelan was safely perched on the dock, I decided to disembark and pull the paddle board off the water. As I nimbly got one foot planted on the dock, the cell phone I was carefully stowing in the pocket of my hoodie in a ‘splash’ proof bag, tumbled elegantly into the water with a distinct plop. Surprisingly, that sucker sank like it was wearing a newly made pair of designer cement shoes. Shit.

I tried to grab it, but my grabbing only aided in its rapid descent. Double fuck. It was also heading for under the dock too, so I thought it best to try and let it fall straight down. I panicked and looked around before asking Caelan to run up to our camp to get Clem. That’s my strategy for absolutely everything. When the shit hits the fan, I look for Clem.

I thought he still had his swim trunks on, as I had changed into street clothes prior to because I had absolutely zero intention of swimming. It was after 9 p.m. or so, who swims at that time of night? Not me. No sun to keep me warm, no swim. I must be part lizard.

Once the phone hit bottom, I could see it sitting there because the ‘splash’ bag had a neon green colored strip across the top. As luck would have it, the bag had developed a hole while we were out paddling and I think it was filling with water as it sunk. Wonderful. It was only for ‘splashing’ anyway. What good is a bloody splash proof bag? Seriously.

I contemplated jumping in, but I’m actually kind of terrified of drowning. Two incidents as a kid and I’m not exactly as brave as I appear. What to do, what to do? I was shitting bricks because I thought Clem was going to shit all over me for taking my phone out on the paddle board without ‘appropriate protection’. Foolish.

I was seriously considering what story line to use in explanation about how my phone ended up at the bottom of the lake. I had some great ones by the way! I also decided that I was going to fully deny Caelan’s story and make it sound like it fell in during a rescue of some sort. Hey, I try!

Holey undies! It’s indecent exposure!

I thought about peeling down to my holey and very worn camping undies, but I really wanted a S’More and didn’t think they’d be serving them up at the town jail should they decide to detain me for indecent exposure. That was a given, especially if I ended up with my ass in the air if I bent forward to dive in. I should probably get some new ginch for camping, just in case I end up in this predicament again.

You know, like Mom always said about leaving the house in a clean pair, just in case. Solid advice. I hope this never happens again, but you just never know. This never made the list of possible adventures that Clem and I had previously planned for, as I mentioned previously here.

Within two minutes, Clem and Caelan arrived at the dock. I showed Clem the phone (only a month old by the way) at the bottom of the lake, in pointer like fashion while eagerly hopping around. It’s funny because the phone actually lit up from an incoming text that I’d just received, further confirming my phone’s position. Just my luck.

Thankfully, the phone is water resistant to 30 meters. That really saved my hide. I extended my paddle as far as I could and stuck it into the water to see if I could retrieve the phone, but it wasn’t long enough. I pulled the paddle out of the water and stood beside it to gauge the water’s depth, it was way over my head. Fuck my life.

Clem wasn’t in his swim trunks any more, and immediately stripped down to his camping skivvies which happened to be a very cute pair of old as fuck and holier than thou Christmas ginch displaying Animal from the Muppets. Yes, we’re quite the pair, matching holey underwear and all…no, they’re not glory holes, but maybe they could be! He took off his glasses (he’s blind as a bat without them) and proceeded to get into the cool water.

I felt like such an asshole. It appeared a bit chilly to Clem (hint hint), but this lake is far from that. I wasn’t in any position to tell him to suck it up. I should’ve been the one getting in and dealing with all the shriveling.

He maneuvered his way around the dock to my phone’s position and quickly took a deep, gasping, frigid breath before diving down to the bottom of the lake. He’s my fucking hero man! He got a hold of the phone and quickly popped himself to the surface before scurrying out and grabbing his clothes along the way.

In a dead run (Clem doesn’t run…like at all), he booted it back to the holiday trailer to have a hot shower but not before scaring the shit out of the other campers watching him run in his wet and holey Christmas underwear. Thank goodness for him. That’s true love right there.

If it weren’t for Clem and his quick action, I would’ve probably stood there wondering in silent contemplation, every angle of attack and where I could secure a net long enough to retrieve the damned phone before finally resolving myself to the inevitable. I was determined not to have to get in and get wet. Not Clem, he’s the real deal. If he hadn’t been brave enough to go down and grab it, it’d probably still be sitting there, while I’d be thinking about what method to try next. All that, and no turtles. Damn.

The man I call husband

Clem, I just want to say, holy shit we’re old! Ha, ha! I’m seriously not kidding!

We may be jammed into our glamping gypsy love suite with our pissy and pouty kids, one of which is up all night, but we’re at one of our most loved and treasured places because of you and everything that you do to make it all possible. There are no words to express my gratitude for all of the hard work you put into making our relationship amazing. I also can’t thank you enough for your endless love and support all these bloody years. Oh! And thanks for putting up with me and all my shenanigans, it can’t be easy.

I can only hope that we have another 20 years of wedded whatever this is…I may need to borrow a phone to call a friend (mine is drying out) because this buying a vowel shit isn’t helping. I’m at a loss as to what to call this thing we have. I have no cash to spend on a bloody vowel, is the phone call free? I know, I know, get to the damn pointy point already.

Happy anniversary Clem. If I had to do it over again, I’d still choose your obsessive compulsive holey ginch folding and glass cupboard organizing ass over anyone else any day. We’ve been through enough shit the last few years to make a Sani dump jealous, so I hope the next 20 years runs more like an ‘exciting’ episode of the Antiques Roadshow.

An ‘exciting’ episode is a very extraordinary occurrence but maybe we’ll get lucky and hit the jackpot. I see us becoming two old shits (gracefully aged) appearing on this wonderful show, towing our old sentimental crap in for evaluation without any expectation. The extraordinary comes in, when we surprisingly discover that we’ve had one, hidden in plain sight and unsuspectingly priceless gem in our possession this whole time, our marriage. Are you retching yet?

With all that said, I don’t need a TV show to tell me what I have because I already know. Awww, I’m so corny. Seriously though, I hope you know how much you mean to me.

Here’s to our future endeavors together and may they be fun, memorable and most importantly good and positive. I’ll take all that with a S’More and painted turtle watching any day. I love that shit! Cheers!

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