Answer Me This: More drama than you bargained for in a link-up.

1. What's the scariest thing that's ever been in your yard?

I should say the hawk that swooped down and decapitated our poor, sweet Buff Orpington.  Our neighbor scared the hawk away for me, and I never actually saw it happen. So really the bloody headless chicken was scarier for me, because what do I do with that when I have a little boy and a toddler, both of whom I'd like to protect a little from the brutality of nature, and more importantly, whom I did not want messing with a carcass.  My husband wouldn't be home for hours, so I had to deal.  Such is the life of a wannabe homesteader.

Some sidewalk chalk kept the children busy on the patio while I hid behind a tree and savagely ripped the feathers and most of the skin off of her.  While I was out of view of the children, I was in full view of the neighbor, who shouldn't have needed to be shielded from the brutality of nature but was a little grossed out that we were going to EAT that.  He still eats our eggs and asks for gardening advice so I guess we're still cool.  I stuffed the chicken in a plastic bag which was then stuffed into a plastic bin and put out in the chilly yard until I could fully butcher her that evening.  I made chicken cacciatore and a very rich broth out of Hermione.  Both were fabulous, even if she was a rather small chicken.

Eating his favorite chicken and liking it! And yes, he did know who/what it was.

 The true answer to this question, however, is rats.  Or the distempered opossum.  No, no, it's the rats.


2. Beards. Thumbs up or thumbs down?

Thumbs up.  Truly, I have a thing for beards.  They're just manly looking.  And therefore attractive.

It makes me a little sad that my husband will never, ever have one.  A beard on Ryan would be more of a scarf.  So on my husband, a big thumbs down.  It would be extremely weird.  His blue eyes make up for it, I guess.

I guess I should say I had a thing for beards.  Not have.  You know, married woman n'at.  But I can still have a thing for flannel shirts and muddy work boots.

3. If stuff breaks, can you fix it?

Ryan can!  In his flannel shirt and muddy work boots. :-) 

Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

Ok, ok, Ryan almost always wears polo shirts and sneakers. I'm very anti-polo shirt.  Polo shirts are worn by every sort of corporate drone, from fast food drudges to cubicle prisoners to child slaves of the educational establishment.  I would be in full support of a polo-burning, like the mythical bra-burnings of the 1960s.  I'm telling you they're instruments of oppression!

What was the question?  Oh, right.  I've got some mad superglue skillz.  If it requires sewing, I can fix it after it sits in my mending bag for several months.  If it's anything mechanical or requiring tools, then it goes on the honey-do list, generally.  Ryan's become rather handy since we've become homeowners.  He's taught himself to build things and do electrical work.  Now he's talking about redoing the kitchen himself and I have no doubt he's capable of it.

4. What was your first car?

I've never had my own car, believe it or not.  I learned to drive on my dad's Toyota Echo, which was a nice little car I guess.  Then there was Ryan's Jeep, which I kindly totaled for him.  The airbags blew while he was PARKED so he cut them out and put duct tape all over the steering wheel.  Then it broke down three or four times in just a few months.  Clearly the best course of action was to have two wheels buckle under me on an exit ramp, then go spinning around into the embankment. I was fine, and the insurance company gave him more than he originally paid for the piece of junk.  (Don't try this at home, kids.)

5. How often do you eat out?

We actually gave up eating out for Lent.  We've gone out a couple of times since Easter, and my in-laws have been generous with meals out while they were visiting last week.  So I don't know, ask me again in a few weeks if you really care that much.  Goal is to have it only be something we do when it's planned and appropriately budgeted as a date or other special reason, or if we otherwise can't avoid it when traveling.  I've had success with meal planning, and I'm working on rebuilding my freezer stash for those days where we otherwise might resort to pizza/Chipotle. It's a bad habit, but my family did it twice a week or so when I was growing up so it seems so normal.  And I work hard, I deserve it, right? BAD BAD BAD self-talk!  Think "money for kitchen remodel" instead!  Have a goal, visualize that brand-new beadboard backsplash and farmhouse sink as a backdrop for all the home-cooked goodness that is not eating crappy guilty takeout!

Much better than Panera!

6. Why is your hair like that?

Oh, man, is that ever a complicated question.

I had it short and liked it a lot, but Ryan would look at my shorn head and cry for a week whenever I got a trim.  I'm exaggerating, but not by much.  Truly, he had a hard time even looking at me for a while he hated it so much.  I've learned that it's not at all unusual for husbands to mourn their wives' shorter hair, but my husband was definitely at the extreme end of that spectrum. 

We fought about it for a long time.  It's my hair, how dare you reduce my attractiveness and femininity to this one attribute, etc. etc.  It was ugly. He felt terrible about the whole thing but just couldn't help that visceral dislike of what he perceived as unfeminine, even though my haircut would have looked really dumb on a man and he knew it.  He felt like I was betraying him in some way, even though of course I had no such intention. It was sort of a role-reversal, since I was the one trying to be reasonable and he was just being so dang emotional in full contradiction of what I saw as the facts.

We prayed together through the whole thing. As stupid as it seemed on the surface, I think getting through this rough patch together really helped our marriage a lot.  I did decide to grow my hair out again out of respect for my husband.  Faster showers were not worth this sort of emotional turmoil. And yes, I felt totally free to decide for myself because we both agreed it was not a husband's place to dictate to a wife what her hairstyle must be.  Because I obviously couldn't just make my hair magically long again, we were still forced to work through the deeper issues at work in this situation.

My one regret is I didn't oh-so-sweetly ask him to burn the polo shirts soon after telling him I was growing my hair out.


Now go and read Kendra's answers at Catholic All Year!  She probably doesn't have quite so much psychology going on.

*Edit: Actually, Haley is hosting this week.