Aliens running around…
Just kidding.
Yesterday we were cruising the countryside. On our way home from the greenhouse. Been looking for artemesia, the annual I always buy for my baskets, the one that comes in raspberry pink.
Hubby remarked, “There sure are a lot of aliens running around…”
“Aliens!”
“And you think my hearing is gone,” he said. “Animals. I said there are a lot of animals running around.”
“Well, you had me worried. I thought your mind was going too,” I told him.
In my defense, Hubby cannot hear. Ten years ago we were in the grocery, in produce. Several women shoppers were in produce, so I have witnesses. I should have taken their names. Anyway, I asked him to bring the corn. I am walking away and see him looking on the floor. I ask, “What did you lose?” and he says, “You told me to get the worm and bring it along.” To which I ask, “Why would I ask you to bring the worm?! There isn’t even a worm.” “Well, I was looking.” All the women were laughing. “What I live with,” I tell them. Still true today, thirty years of confusion. Hearing aids won’t work, he doesn’t want one. This is one example of five hundred thousand, not all amusing.
Today Hubby and I were cruising the countryside. On our way home from another greenhouse. Still no artemesia. We drove by a hobby farm and pond, where on the hillside we spot a….
“What’s that?” he asked.
“A goat.” I was sure of it. A leggy, slender goat staring into the field.
“Or a Great Dane.”
“Could be.” If I have not learned anything in thirty years of marriage, it is to amiably let him have his opinion, no matter how wrong I may know he is.
“Or a statue,” he said. “That’s what I thought it was to begin with. A statue.”
“Yes, a deer target. No rack, that threw me. They must sit in the row boat to shoot target then,” I say as I wonder why he asked what I saw when he knew what he could see was a deer target. Do I do that to him? I cannot remember.
“I think we need glasses,” he said.
“We have glasses. No one told us we have to wear them to drive. Yet.”
When we arrive home, I check the plant tag I saved from last year. I wanted to call the greenhouse owners and tell them that I was right. I wanted Angela Raspberry Artemesia, an annual I had purchased from each of them in the last three years.
I had been insisting that was exactly what the tag said. Far be it from me to actually remember to bring the tag with me.
The tag said Angelart Raspberry Nemesia.
I had to call the greenhouses and tell them they could save the flats of that flower for me, that flower…. the flower they had been insisting that I wanted all along.
My hearing. My eyesight. My mind.
What is to become of Hubby?
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