Why I refuse to fly with my husband

First of all, I am not a “Guest” blogger. I told Jeffrey that I was compelled to write about his latest creation, and his response was, “Great! You’ll be our first guest blogger.” It’s sort of like the obnoxious people at the insurance company who refuse to list me as the insured person on the health insurance policy even though I am the one who pays the bills and the one who signed us up in the first place… sexism, pure and simple! He may build the amplifiers and speakers, but who has to live with them all while they are in development? Who has had sawhorses in her living and or dining room for nearly two years now while we “finish” the speaker design? The “Guest” blogger… that’s who!
So… last night, I walked out into my garage to ask my husband a question, and here is what I saw:


I know!!! Any normal person would wonder what in heaven’s name that Unabomber look-alike was cooking up in my garage. Sadly, I don’t have to wonder. You see my husband has a sincere devotion to practicality that combined with a lack of concern for public opinion results in little “fixes” like this one. Jeffrey sees a need to be able to talk to Dave while he is out working, but doesn’t want to be restricted by having to stay near the phone, so he straps himself up with packing tape, and … voila… he has solved the problem without any notion that he looks like he’s headed into a crowded street in Fallujah.
This is totally characteristic of the man that I love…
The last time we were flying to New York, Jeffrey had a few items that he wanted to take to Dave. Now, any normal person might recognize that a bag full of unidentifiable mechanical/electronic equipment might not be the thing that you want to be carrying onto your plane in the current climate… especially when we were at Code Level Orange…


but my husband is not any normal person. No, Jeffrey, who has probably not looked into a mirror in at least 10 years, thinks that carrying this stuff onto the plane is the only way to ensure that it will safely reach his darling Dave, and so off we go… I try in vain to explain to him that perhaps if he were willing to shave, he might be a little more likely to avoid the full-body cavity search, but he won’t hear a word. So we get to the airport and, by this time, I am glistening all over (Southern women don’t sweat) because I know what’s coming. I’m absolutely positive that my husband is going to become a “person of interest” in some underground prison somewhere… but I’ll be darned if he doesn’t manage to sweep right through security and on to the plane without a single problem! Seriously!!! Would you want this man on your plane with a bag full of wired equipment?



That’s what I thought…


Lisa