Story Time: "I Shot a Rabbit"

A while back I went to a youth ministry conference in Georgia with the rest of the youth staff.  On the last night, I had warned my hubby that worship would probably go long and not to be worried if I didn't call (because all those youth pastors in one place had to out-worship each other. :))  Anyways, I snuck out from the conference around 10p to call and say goodnight.  He told me he would be up for a while and to still call when we left.  So, I did.  Around midnight, we finally left the conference and headed to dinner at TGI Friday's.  I called the hubs again.  This time, he told me he was on the porch doing his quiet time and said to go ahead and call when we left.  I said, 'are you sure?  It will probably be pretty late?' and he said even if he was asleep, he would like me to call.  (I know, so sweet, right?)  
So I call when we leave around 1:30a.  No answer.  No big deal.  If you know David you know he could sleep through a mortar attack on our home.  After a few minutes, I figure I will try one more time.  This time he answers, and he sounds sleepy.  I say, 'did I wake you?' He hesitantly says, 'Yes'.  I say, 'Oh, I'm sorry, I will let you get back to bed'.  We say good night and that's that.  A few minutes later I get a call back.   
Me: Hello?
Hubs: Hey Babe.  (he sounds weird)
Me: Hey. What's up?
Hubs: I lied to you.  I don't know why, but I lied.  I feel so bad.  I am really sorry.  It is so dumb... 
At this point, he goes on and on about lying to me and my heart begins to race.  I am driving a car with my boss, his wife, his kids, and my co-worker and I am thinking my husband is about to confess some deep hidden sin.  Finally I interrupt.  'What is it?!  Just tell me?' and I brace myself for impact.  From the other side of the phone I hear a sheepish, 'I shot a rabbit.' 
Me: What?
Hubs: I shot a rabbit
Relief and confusion sweep over me.
Me: What are you talking about?
Hubs: I was sitting on the porch doing my quiet time and I saw a rabbit down by the barn.  I thought I would get my gun and take a shot.  I never thought I would actually get it, but I did.  When you called I was watching a youtube video on how to skin it.  I don't know why, but I thought you'd be mad, so I lied.   
At this point I begin to laugh at the randomness of it all.  I tell him that he shouldn't have lied, but as far as lies go, I was glad it was just about a rabbit.   
Now, when one of us does something that we don't want to necessarily tell the other person, like when I lost my debit and credit card in the same week and was at the bank trying to secretly replace them and David called to ask what I was doing, we simply say 'I shot a rabbit.'
Dear David,
We're having rabbit stew tonight.  
Love,
Your relieved wife

Story Time: Honey Do(n't

Our first home was a "fixer-upper." Some of the work we did included: replacing the flooring, remodeling the kitchen, painting every.stinkin.wall, smoothing the ceilings (that one got me a trip to the hospital and concussion...but I digress), and more. We also changed out every ceiling light and fan in the house. And by 'we,' I mostly mean ‘me.’ Of the 6 fans in the house, I replaced 5 of them with the help of my mom. The one fan I did not do was the fan in our master bedroom. This fan was left on the 'honey-do' list.

So, my honey did it.

Fast forward down the road and imagine waking up from a peaceful (pre-children) sleep to a very loud explosion in the middle of the night! We shot straight up in bed, completely startled and discombobulated. We both see what appears, in the dark, to be smoke, and David yells, 'Fire!' Obviously, this creates even more panic, and we frantically fumble to get out of bed. A few seconds later, we realize what has happened. The only fan to be installed, not by me, had fallen from the ceiling onto our bed. The 'smoke' was (embarrassingly) just a bunch of dust from the fan (don't judge me), and the 'explosion' was just the noise of the fan hitting our bed and then the floor.

I would like to take a moment to re-reiterate who had had installed the fan-David. Not me. My fans are all still securely hanging from the ceilings.

The more I write these, the more I realize they often include me thinking, even if for just a moment, I am going to die...

Dear David,

Let's leave the fan installations to your wifey. Mkay? Thanks.

Sincerely,
Your better-at-installing-fans-than-you wife

Story Time: "It's Dead," He Said...

Once upon a time, I innocently walked outside only to find one of the most horrifyingly awful bugs ever created.  Don't believe me? Allow me to show you a picture:

Like I said, horrifying.  I called my husband out to take a look.  Not surprisingly, his reaction was drastically different than mine.  While I wanted to call 911 or perhaps the military, David wanted to-yep you guessed it-touch it.  "It's dead", he said...

He lied.

As he began to investigate it, this monster of a bug suddenly clamped down its GIGANTIC pinchers.  What was my husbands reaction?  He FLUNG this HIDEOUS CREATURE RIGHT AT ME and it landed ON MY SHIRT.   In other words, he tried to kill me.   To this day he claims it was an 'accident'.  I have my doubts.  

Dear David,

Don't play with 'dead' bugs...at least not when I am around.

Love,

Your suspicious wife.

Story Time: 'I Hate to Say It...'

I have decided to share some moments from our marriage for no other reason than your enjoyment.  I hope you like them:

The other day David and I were walking to the garage. Near one of our windows David pauses. I ask what he's doing and look around him to try to see what he is looking at. I see a there is a spot on the ground where the leaves are smushed down and the grass is bent over. I say, "Oh, has something been bedding down there?" David replies, "No, I don't think so..." So I JOKINGLY say, "You think it's from a peeper?" To which David replies, "I hate to say it, but yes." 
Dear David, 

In the future, if you 'hate to say it'-DON'T SAY IT!

Love,

Your Terrified Wife