Peanut Head

Peanut Head and I decided it was time to introduce you to him a little more thoroughly on account of he's my man. Actually, I decided, he hasn't a clue.

This, of course, means that I'm going to be poking fun at him a little. He's ready for it regardless of the lack of advance notice, because has an over abundance of self-esteem.

Good thing.

The first, possibly inconsequential, thing I'd like to point out is how much Peanut Head looks like a Chia Pet. Well not him exactly, but his head, his pattern of hair growth to be more specific.

Examine.

CHIA HEAD

PEANUT HEAD CHIA PET
(right out of the box on the left, after a couple weeks of watering on the right)

Do you see what I mean?

That tells you nothing about his personality though, does it?

Peanut Head and I are actually quite compatible. We're both kind of anal and compulsive. We take things to the extreme. At least he was in the Marine Corps so he has an excuse for being so weird. I was just born like this.

To get this party started, I want to share with you one of Peanut Head's more glaringly bizarre anal episodes.

Several years ago he made himself some very pretty saw horses. These saw horses were a sight to behold. They were sanded so well, that when I touched them, they felt like butter. Then they were stained and sealed and they were gorgeous.

Um. But they were saw horses. Saw horses get messy, do they not?

Well, apparently I was mistaken. Peanut Head dang near killed me when I sanded and painted one of my projects on his award winning saw horses without first covering them with protective plastic. Oh yeah, and I dinged them. His word was gouge, but I say ding.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, DONG!

I know you probably think I'm kidding, but the Barefoot Contessa can back me up on this. Peanut Head was so mad at me that he had to leave the house and take a long walk so as not to kill me. I'd like to say that he got over it, but let's just say that it's something we don't talk about.

So look at me, sharing it with the internet. Oops.

The other thing about Peanut Head is he doesn't like pattern. This is where our symbiotic relationship diverges violently.

For example, when finishing our basement and deciding where to install the recessed lighting, he worked very hard at not placing the lights in an equitable and regular arrangement. He insisted that they be random. I'm fighting the urge to use air quotes here.

Instead, if you could just use a haughty voice when reading the word random, I'd really appreciate it.

The main problem with this random for me, is that I like light. I like a lot of light. I like my space to be lit up like an operating room.

So, since Peanut Head is the electrician and I merely have a very healthy respect of electricity, the lights went wherever the heck he felt like placing them. So we have random lights.

And pockets of gloom. Amongst the irrational random lights.

My fellow croppers and I are always harassing Peanut Head about the shady pockets of gloom, and he just blows us off with his over abundance of self-esteem.

He will not be swayed.

He's a rock.

I'd say he's a box of rocks but that would really be stretching it. Even for me. To be honest, he's a Rock Scientist, a Geologist, a Geophysicist.

A Nerd.

People ask me all the time what exactly it is that he does for a living, and I have to fight, with all my might, to keep my eyes from glazing over and rolling back in my head. Seriously. The simple answer is that I just don't know exactly. And I like it like that.

Don't ever ask him either, because he will tell you and your eyes will glaze over and roll back in your head until you hear a loud THUNK, and then you'll fall into a coma. For real.

Our kids will never be able to exclaim to their Dad when doing math homework, "But I'm never going to use this stu-u-u-u-ff. It's a waste of t-i-i-i-i-i-me."

If they dare say that, not only will his head will pop off and spin around the room, but he will make them write an 18,000 word essay about all the things they are going to need math for.

And then they're going to have to write a proof for it.

You think I'm kidding.

His geekiness has affected my own education, so I can vouch for this. When I was in college, I was trying to decide on a minor that would make me more marketable as a teacher in a competitive marketplace. He looked at me with his piercing blue Peanut Head eyes and said "It's going to have to be math or science, you know that." "Ugh," I groaned, "Not that. Anything but that." But in the end I knew he was right, and I hated math less, so math it was. It actually turned out well though, because I like working with numbers and I've always loved me a good messy bank reconciliation.

I reluctantly admit that Peanut Head knew that about me.

As much as I tease Peanut Head, I have to be fair and tell you that he is also a pretty neat guy. Over abundance of self-esteem and irrational randomness and all. He always jumps in to help me when I overextend myself, and he eases my burdens and doesn't complain about it.

And he's the best father to our kids that I could ever ask for. And I'm going to make sure our girls grow up knowing how lucky they are. Peanut, you're the best!