When I was 8 years old, my parents gave me a set of books for Christmas that remains, to this day, one of the coolest gifts I’ve ever received. They were beautiful. A matched row of hardback books in soft colors with gold lettering, with titles guaranteed to make any young girl a lifelong reader, including Black Beauty, Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, Heidi, and my all-time favorite, Little House on the Prairie, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I completely fell in love with Little House, a passion I carry to this day. I read the books, years later bought the series on tape, and still watch reruns on my instant Netflex queue when I’m working out.
Kenny, however, doesn’t get it. “WHY do you like this series??” he asks repeatedly. “Nothing good ever happened to those people!” An understandable position, since he’s come home more than once to me sobbing on my elliptical trainer because Walnut Grove was suffering another drought, Mary went blind, Ma got bit by a snake and had to cut her own leg open, the blind school burned down, there was a typhoid epidemic, Bandit (Laura’s dog) died, and Grandpa had to shoot her horse. When you think about it, life pretty much sucked for these people.
What Kenny constantly points out is that most of this stuff happened when Pa was out of town. This is the only part of the show Kenny identifies with, and his first question when I tell him what’s happening on any given episode is, “Where was Pa?” This is not an altogether irrational question.
Over the last 14 years, Kenny has gone out of town and come home to caved-in garage ceilings, flooded carpets, dented car fenders, his beloved Chi Chi bandaged from an attack by the neighbor’s Rotweiller, Paco in the hospital getting a fish hook removed from his upper palette, tire tracks in the front yard, aborted attempts by me to repaint various rooms of the house, smoke damage in the kitchen, his stereo swapped out for a year’s worth of manicures, and his brand new bbq’er underneath his vintage 280ZX in the driveway.
Recently, Kenny was headed out the door for a 3-day golf trip, and as he tossed his clubs into the truck, I got my usual, only-slightly condescending admonitions (to which, after 13 years of marriage and the above-mentioned incidents, I take no offense whatsoever). “While I’m gone, under NO circumstances are you to cook, light the bbq, make home improvements, climb a ladder, reorganize the attic, drive my car, or plug in any power tool. Oh, and no making deals with my stuff.” Seems reasonable.
In my defense, all I did was spot a tiny bit of lint on the bedroom carpet, so I got the vacuum cleaner out and fired it up. As I pushed it forward, I stepped on the cord, which jerked me forward with stumble, so I grabbed the nearby door to catch myself, not realizing it was off its hinges and leaning up against the wall to be painted.
The door came crashing down as I face-planted into the carpet, bringing the door to rest on top of my backside, while our Chihuahuas came scrambling down the hall to help by excitedly licking my face with all the enthusiasm 15 pounds of combined canine could muster. Well, crap.
I can explain the vacuum cleaner. The butt-size hole in the door…yeah, not so much. I’m thinking he really needs to start golfing at the local course.
I love this–your analysis of the story lines…and as I have said numerous times, vacuuming can kill you. So glad you’re not hurt!!!
It’s official: THERE IS A CURSE HERE, PEOPLE.
I think that instead of making him stay local, though, you both should just go out of town at the same time so that you can have a vacation, he can have a golfing trip, and the house can breathe a sigh of relief.
HA HA HA!! It is a wonder the man ever travels! ;) So funny!-Ashley
Also a Little House fan, though more of the books than the TV series.
I have never (yet) ended up with a butt-sized hole in any door from vacuuming, but I have bruises that can attest it ain’t from lack of trying.
That’s why I don’t vacuum.
You do seem to be a walking (or vacuuming)disaster area, Vicki. But I like your style. And this is one of the reasons I never vacuum.
You forgot about the motorcycle in your living room incident. ;)
I hope you admired how small the butt sized hole was. I’m going to use your mishap as an excuse for not vacuuming this week. Or next.
Good stuff Little House. Read all the books to my kids when they were young. Seen all the shows at least once and…wait for it…visited all (almost) the sites where they lived.
The title really got me, and I love the modern version of What Happens When Pa’s Not Home!!!
I loved all of the Little House books and Monday nights were coveted as that was “Little House Night.” I was just telling a student’s mom tonight that I think I was born in the wrong time period. “I loved Little House,” without thinking once about the fact that she might not understand.
Ha! My hubby travels a lot for work. It’s doesn’t happen every time he’s gone, but if there is going to be a problem (flat tire, leaky pipe, etc.) it will most certainly happen when he is gone!
Pa should never have left the farm.
OMG put the vacuum away woman and never get it out again! I think you’re right, Kenny needs to stay close when he goes away ha :) Oh, and Little House on the Prairie? I think one of my first crushes may have been Michael Landon as Pa in the TV series *sigh* takes me back.
I think that’s one of Murphy’s Laws, even in the olden days. When Pa’s away, everything goes to shit.