How the Other Half Lives ~ BitterSweetLife

Friday, September 30, 2005

How the Other Half Lives



For several months now I’ve been trying to coax my wife, Lindsay, into writing a guest post. Besides being my better half, she’s a thoughtful commentator and often prompts me with ideas that end up evolving into posts. It seemed only natural that she should have some kind of presence here.


The issue became more urgent when I created a “Lindsay” tag for sorting my posts with del.icio.us. Now my wife’s bloggy shyness has caused a crisis. Her category is under-populated, basically screaming for more entries. Someone has to step forward and produce.

I guess that would be me.

In lieu of Lindsay’s reluctance to blog, I feel compelled to write something on her behalf. Really, I have no choice. I sense considerable risk in the air as I embark on this undertaking—but what can I say? I’m just glad it’s not my reputation and persona that’s at stake. On the upside, there’s always the chance that if I say something provocative enough, Lindsay will decide to speak up for herself. (Remember, honey, you could have prevented all of this with a quick 3-paragraph blurb.)

At present, I am home alone. It seems a perfect time for my first “Lindsay” post. First, some kind of quick overview seems necessary.

Vital Facts About Lindsay

She has brown hair
She’s a multi-talented artist
She’s taken

Hmm. I’m not sure that quite captures her. But I can’t spend too much time second-guessing myself. Onward!

A Quick Backstory

Lindsay characterizes her life before marrying me as “entirely free of sarcasm” but also lacking in some of the more refined pleasures. The former fact caused an exciting period of readjustment as Lindsay acquired an ear for satirical quips and learned to dish them out herself. The latter required a brief but intense indoctrination phase; consequently, Lindsay acquired a passion for KU hoops and a mild tolerance for coffee. I, of course, did not escape without making adjustments myself. I’m just not mentioning them now because this post is about Lindsay, right?

A Diamond in the Rough

In all fairness, Lindsay should be a Broadway diva. She has an incredible voice, earned all kinds of leading theater roles in college (B.A. in Musical Theater), and, accordingly, often busts out with hilarious impersonations. That’s the diamond part. The rough part is that she’s living in a downtown loft with me, substitute teaching for pocket change as I make my way toward a Master of Divinity degree (theology). But that’s the price you pay when you marry a penniless student/author. For love. Not that I blame her, but still. Fortunately, she doesn’t feel too bad about it.

Furthermore

I think I just heard a key turning in the front door. This will have to be continued. I’m out.

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5 comments:

Andy said...

For Love! So true, as the penniless student/author will soon become a slightly-less-than-penniless minister, unless he pastors a mega-church that seats 15,000 attendees.

Or writes a best selling book, The Bittersweet Driven Life. LOL!

JaG said...

Hi! I'm on a quest to leave 100 comments in the blogosphere and you're #25!!

That's a lovely picture you've got there.

mikeofearthsea said...

if i wasn't trying not to use the Lord's name in vain, i would say, "god, she's beautiful..." - ooops, i just said it.

Anyway, from what i can tell, she's married a noble man of god. and i know you wouldn't marry anyone who's not an awesome woman of god. what seminary are you at? i may be in the market in a few years.

mike

><>

AJ said...

Andy, the book is on the way. It's my only hope of buying Linsday the life she's always dreamed of. ;)

jag, mike, you're right - she's a cutie.

Re: seminary, I'm at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary here in KC.

Anonymous said...

Honey,

The rough part is not living with you. Although, I think you hit the nail on the head in regards to subbing...

I think you did just fine with the post. It feels so awkward to write about myself!

Love,

Your Wife

 

Culture. Photos. Life's nagging questions. - BitterSweetLife