You did it! You convinced Mrs. Diesel to do a post! And to not kill me! Although she did say that the picture was "horrible." Anyway, without further ado here's my -- ahem -- sweetheart blogging about my favorite topic: me!

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Well, first let me say thanks for faking all that enthusiasm about having me post something. I know most of you probably died a little inside each time you forced yourself to leave yet another comment in the hopes of reaching 100. Your sacrifice doesn’t go unnoticed.

The most popular topic requests seem to be “What is Diesel really like?” and “How the heck do you put up with him all the time?” As for the first question, c’mon people! If you’re a faithful reader of this blog, you already know exactly what Diesel is like: really smart, a little self-centered, funnier than should be legal. He sees the humor in everything, which is a lot of fun. More than once he’s sent me into fits of giggles in church because of some comment or other. He takes perverse pleasure in doing that. The downside to this, of course, is that he can’t take anything seriously. When we went through a Lamaze class before Climber was born, he spent the whole time trying to make me laugh. When the instructor told everyone to choose a tranquil place to think about, Diesel leans over to me and whispers, “Racetrack.” All the other couples are obligingly going to their happy places while I’m giggling helplessly on the floor. I have lots of examples of that kind of stuff, but that’s enough for now. Suffice it to say that we can’t join any group where we’re supposed to discuss stuff seriously.

Another thing about this guy you know as Diesel is that he can’t remember anything. I’m not talking about important stuff like who directed Bladerunner or what was the name of the guy who coined the term “rock and roll.” Those things he remembers no problem. It’s the mundane things in life that he can’t keep track of. He posted once about my superhuman ability to remember where everything is, and he wasn’t exaggerating. That’s probably why we’re still married after 14 years—he wouldn’t be able to find shoes if I wasn’t around. But to be fair, I knew what I was getting into. On our first date we spent half an hour wandering around downtown Grand Rapids looking for his car. He said to me, “If you want to hang out with me, you’d better get used to this.” At least he was honest. Well that’s all I can think of right now in the “What’s Diesel really like?” department. If you have a specific question you want answered, just ask. More than likely I’ll answer it for you.

As for the second question, I was forced to develop a thick skin very early in our relationship. When we were dating, he never did the cutesy nickname thing. He’s never called me “babe” or “sweetheart” or anything remotely positive. He’s always called me the first thing that comes into his head, like “lumpy” or “squiggles”. I’ve chosen to find it endearing. His guiding principal in life is that if something is at least twice as funny as it is mean, then it’s okay to say. You suspected as much, right? Also, he has a hard time feigning interest in things he doesn’t care about. One time I was telling him a story about my day, and he told me I needed to "punch up the middle a bit." Make no mistake, living with Diesel isn’t always easy, but it’s never boring. So yeah, he can be kind of a jerk, but I’ve been cracking myself up writing this, so I guess I can’t complain. What are you going to do, I love the guy. Once in a while, though, I’d like him to take an interest in me rather than in this blog. I guess that’s what this whole thing was about. His attempt to show me he cares. Sweet, huh? Or maybe he could just buy me a nice piece of jewelry like normal husbands.

Labels: Anecdotes, Family, Mrs. Diesel