This Week in "Sharing My Air"

This is...well, I've just asked him, and he'd like to be referred to as "Slick". I feel as though I should take the time to give him a little nod since he is my real-life everyday super-hero. This guy has endured my drama baggage, hatin' from Maria, Ava's "big fits", a brief period when I was working in a job that took it's toll on me and I became my alter-ego "Blamy" and yelled at him for everything, and many communicable diseases so generously delivered to him by my children's schools. All along, he still somehow stuck with me, and took care of us like he owed us something. We owe him.

Here's a little anecdote: It's no secret that I'm picky about some things. I'm not a picky eater (this is obvious) but when I'm going to indulge on something truly horrible for me, I am very particular about what food item on which I am going to waste several moments of weakness. Putting the word "pleasure" after "guilty" transforms guilt into something "too good to turn down" --I mean, no one will hold you accountable if it was THAT good. Try it...tell the next person you talk to that you completely gluttonized a dozen scrambled eggs. Watch his/her face curl inward and look at you like you just admitted to taking a little taste of rabbit poop. Now, go tell someone else that you violated an entire box of Girl Scout Cookies - specifically, Tagolongs. His/her face will turn upward and their eyes will get all squinty as if to say, "ooh, you are sooo bad (wink)".

Wow. What just happened there? I was in the middle of an anecdote.

SO.....It was "Slick's" (he made up this name- I'm illustrating that he's wonderful, not cool) turn to make me dinner. He carefully planned every part of the meal and made sure to get my favorites. After dinner, he asked if I was hungry for dessert (not in that slimy Larry-from-upstairs kind of way either). I asked him what he had. He flatly said, "Ice cream." I suspiciously asked, "What kind?" (refer to my drawn out explanation of my periodic picky-ness). He said, "Well, I couldn't decide what kind you would like best so..." and he opened up the freezer to reveal about five different flavors of Ben and Jerry's. It's like he's not just okay with my tendency to be difficult, he looks at it like a challenge and enjoys finding ways to make me happy.

Now, as I look over my shoulder to gaze at him so fondly, the proverbial records screeches to a stop as he's eating a bag of jerky that smells so horrible that I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. Oh...and he's talking to the Green Bay Packers and the color commentary guys like they can hear him. Oh that jerky smells really bad. Seriously. Is it ass-jerky? Ape-jerky? Okay, so maybe we're almost even.

Oh, and I know he would want me to mention that he has FABULOUS hair.