This morning, I noticed Gar somberly staring at our wedding photo. I snuck up behind him and whispered, “Gazing in memory of a bad decision?”  

We recently had fiber optics put in our house and subsequently, had to put a new Wi-Fi password into all the technological advances that we don’t know how to sway productively in our favor. Fairly easily, we got it in our phones and laptops, and with prayer and an abundance of frowning, I was able to figure out how to install it into the digital photo frame. I was befuddled by the Ecobee which controls the furnace, so had to get reinforcements from our oh-so-valuable electrician, who on the phone and without pay, walked me through it. God bless Tim for never mentioning how dense I am.  

Next was to enter the password into our virtual assistant, Alexa, which I’m telling you right now has never assisted us in anything worthy, virtually or otherwise. She’s never done a dish, folded a washcloth, or touched the vacuum’s handle, so I’m saying the “assistant” moniker is BS. Mostly she’s there to tell jokes, “Why was the car running on fumes? Because it kept passing gas.” “The 49ers are the most successful NFL team if you just ignore the last 25 years.” I’d say don’t give up your day job, but that is her day job. She also broadcasts Mark Levine with his high-volume yelling, like a teenager told to load the dishwasher, but she was quiet as the dead and not coming to life without the new password. For quite some time everything we tried was a fail, like trying to get out of a Wisconsin corn maze. Finally, with Gar reading instructions and procedures (we got him “Hooked on Phonics for his birthday … little joke) we were able to get her online again. Remember years ago, when the electricity went out then came back on and everything just started working? And when you got a new phone, you just unplugged the old one and plugged the new one in? Awe, the good ole days. I was grateful to get everything back on track and sincerely thought, yay us, we’re not as dumb as our kids say. Gar wasn’t so uplifting. Turning to me he stoically voiced, “We’d have a smart home if it wasn’t for the owners.”  

We are quite obviously not techy, and don’t know, or use, the internet jargon often, which is why this tickled me. We were sitting on the couch one morning, still in our night clothes, which for me is a tank and undies. When I stood up, Gar mentioned I had a little hole in my underwear. I said, “These are my night ones, they’re old so I only wear them to bed, then I have nice ones I wear for day.” Raising his eyebrows, Gar comically quipped, “Oh my gosh, I’m getting my phone and ask if I’m the only husband or if there’s others, who provide their wife with day underwear AND night underwear. PM me.” Ha! 

As if the fact bore repeating, Gar is quiet and reserved and doesn’t like to draw attention to himself. Heck, he won’t even take an aspirin in front of anyone for fear he’ll be asked if he’s ill. He had an appointment with his shoulder doctor for a checkup and was asked if he could put his arm up, down and then behind his back. Yes, he could, which was a surprise since most shoulder replacement patients cannot, so his doctor heartily called him a “Rockstar.” Gar did mention that his shoulder gets stiff and he was told to keep working out and lifting in the weight room. Riding home, Gar told me that through the winter, while he was building our kids' fence and gates he didn’t go to the gym. He lamented that now that he’s back lifting, he’s a little embarrassed when other men look over and see how small of weight he can manage. I said, “Why does it matter to you what other people think?” Gar, being Gar, shrugged and softly murmured, “I dunno.” With more volume than was probably necessary, I emphatically stated, “You need to be more like me.” Gar answered, “I know, short and…” I broke in, “Chubby?” He laughed, “I was gonna say ornery.” Haha.  

It's our anniversary and my only words of wisdom today is to tell you that the first time Gar saw me without makeup was quite a surprise for him. I wouldn’t suggest this for the wedding night.