Disclaimer:  I use too many commas and parentheses, make up words when I deem necessary, and have a penchant for dots, dashes, and run-on sentences (among other moving violations).   I also tend to be a bit long-winded, but it seems to run in the family so it’s probably genetic and I can’t help it. If any of these are known to cause hives,  light-headedness, loud outbursts, or any other unpleasant reactions—just click out of here!!    Still here, huh?  The other thing about most of this schtuff is that what isn’t totally true is based on actual events……as I know ‘em……or at least think of ‘em……whatever.

If you’ve ever had the great, good fortune to have known somebody who is  really good at figuring things out you’ll know what I’m talking about here.  It just so happens I’m married to one of those people.  Over the years I have been quite pleasantly surprised time and again at the wealth of knowledge this man has garnered from the various aspects of his life experiences.   At the drop of a hat he hauls it out, dusts it off, and puts it to good use; and I have to say he will never cease to amaze me.

A while back when I’d gotten home from work,  I found my sweetheart out here on the patio with what looked to be the innermost parts of our central air conditioning unit scattered all over the place…. pieces and motor lookin’ thing-eys that I have never had the desire to see, much less become familiar with….pieces of an essential factor in the day-to-day comfort and quality of life in these-here parts.   Doing my best to stifle the knot I felt forming in the pit of my stomach, I pasted on a bright smile and joined him amongst a seemingly impossible mess of parts, pieces, wires, and tools.

The season’s temperatures had already been sneaking past 90 degrees, and the inside of the house certainly felt every bit of it.  Despite the fact that the scene had the look and feel of  fallout from some sort of unnatural disaster, I gamely announced my joy at seeing that my “fix-it guy” was on the job.  Receiving a grumble about some silly thing such as being “too old for this kinda crap”, I did a little deep breathing and with fingers crossed, I assumed the position and became  gofer-assistant-sounding board, and “we” set about what appeared (to me) to be the insurmountable task of resurrecting the comfort of our home without having to call in the rescue squad.  (Did I mention that the only things remaining in the unit housing were leaves and dirt?  That became one of my projects by default.)

To sum it all up:  A couple of hours, a couple of trips back to the neighborhood hardware store,  and some scrapes and colorfully inventive language later our efforts were rewarded and we heard the glorious  concert from the perennial favorite “Personal Climate Control”  making a come-back tour with their long-time favorite opening act, “Buzz and Humm”.

After handing my guy a well deserved celebratory cocktail, I was informed with all seriousness that he could fix “anything but a broken heart”.  Somehow I have always know this to be true (though I’m not so sure about that qualifier concerning the heart), but until my recent stint in the hospital I’d had no idea of the meaningful depth of that statement:  and sitting here several months later, I know more than ever what a very lucky lady I am.  Ever since I was returned by the aliens, he has held up remarkably well—all things considered—and continues to hold a steady course as I  (unintentionally) discover new ways to drive him a little  nuttier than he already is.

There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t thank my lucky stars, and I simply wanted to give credit where it’s due before I get off and onto other things.