All I want for Christmas is no gravy on my cobbler
Like many practical husbands, I find a lot of my prized possessions under attack by my wife -- shirts that are slightly too big and therefore very comfortable, fine art in the form of bobbleheads and my finest works of poetry that were to be included in my "Odes to Nantucket" collection.
You know, man stuff. Like underwear with holes in them, pants with holes in them and socks with holes in them. Women see holes as flaws, while men see them as added comfort and air circulation.
Just last night I went looking for some of my most comfortable socks. In vain.
"Oh, I threw half of them away," she said.
"They had holes in them!"
"Of course they did! How can you put on socks unless they have holes in them?!"
Granted, we men don't get some of the stuff women like -- such as pedicures, that 73rd pair of shoes, handbags. You know, silly stuff. But we men go along with y'all having this silly stuff because we're sensitive, understanding men of the new millennium, and because we don't want to get injured.
Fortunately, I played the ultimate card in getting to have a practical guy thing. I've asked Santa Claus for it. I mean, who's more of a guy than Santa Claus with his big beard, huge beer gut, pipe and reindeer hunting club? He's a jollier and somewhat more generous version of Ted Nugent.
I've asked Santa for something very simple, especially since my wife and I have already given ourselves a Margaritaville margarita-making machine -- something of equal importance to men and women, at least those who like the beach and Jimmy Buffett. All I've asked for this Christmas is divider plates.
A lot of people may not like divider plates because they associate them with school and hospital cafeterias or prison. While I may not have enjoyed the two weeks straight I once spent in a hospital after a car wreck, I do have fond memories of school. And prison. And prison school.
One thing hospitals, schools and prisons have in common is that they have lice problems. Another is that they are practical. And practical people don't want the juice from their cabbage running all over their fried chicken and getting it soggy while the gravy from the mashed potatoes flows over into the peach cobbler. Of course, as you can tell from the menu example that just popped into my head, practical people also are way more susceptible to heart disease and obesity.
My wife thinks my Christmas wish is another ridiculous man thing (as if!) and that we couldn't find divider plates anyway unless they had something like Spider-Man on them -- which prompted the obvious question from me:
"What's your point?"
I mean, the woman can make fun of men, holy socks and divider plates all she wants, but once she disses Spider-Man, well, she's definitely stepping over the line. Speaking of the woman, I think she's home because I hear her opening the dryer.
"What the heck? I thought I threw these nasty things away!"
Oops, gotta go, guys. My Spidey Sense is tingling.
-- Connect with Chris Johnson at Facebook.com/KudzuKidWriting.