I love my wife and all, but Jesus Hercules Christ...

[anotherVTskibum]

^^ Since 12/18 when I had a heart attack we've had a cascading series of pain in the ass episodes. Now we get to slow down, again, and reassess.


For in the house and shopping and such yeah but it won't do much for the 13 steps to get down to the icy, narrow, on a mild hill driveway. It's gotta be easier than crutches though for most stuff.

IME, the flip-down icepicks for crutches are well worth it. I'm not sure why they don't supply them with the crutches in snowy and icy places, maybe they just expect you'll stay inside into spring or something.

Sent from my SM-G892A using TGR Forums mobile app

[PB]

Wife standing right outside my office door yelling at my daughter about phone chargers while I'm on a customer call

Fuck off

Retaliate with open bathroom door during massive dumpage while she's yammering away on her phone.

[BCMtnHound]

Retaliate with open bathroom door during massive dumpage while she's yammering away on her phone.

Ha! Never seen your better half on the throne yammering to her friends? You've led a sheltered relationship from my experience.

[PB]

Yabbut ..... teh womenz only poop and piss demurely.

[riser4]

Have you been married to any actual womenz?

[KQ]

A love story....... I had an aunt and uncle that married at 16 & 18. They celebrated 70+ years together and were devoted to the end. Sigh......



Mel and Beryl Fitzpatrick have done everything together for 70 years


Mel and Beryl Fitzpatrick are photographed in their 1935 Ford Coupe on Feb. 4 in Spokane. Mel bought Beryl the car in honor of her birth year, 1935, and completely restored it.

In the eighth grade Beryl Lester wrote love notes to Mel Fitzpatrick, even though she’d never met him.

Technically, they weren’t from her.

“I wrote them for my friend, Shirley, because she liked him,” Beryl said.

The romance between Mel and Shirley never got off the ground, which was a good thing, because when he met Beryl at church in Sunnyside, Washington, in 1950, sparks flew.

“He was friendly and closer to my age than some of the other boys,” she said.

Mel was 15, she 14. He didn’t have a car or a driver’s license, and her folks didn’t have a phone, so if he wanted to see her he had to walk or ride his bike 2½ miles to her house.

“She wasn’t allowed out after 10 p.m., but I could go see her every day,” Mel said.

However, when she invited him over for Sunday dinner, he balked.

“I told her I’d probably knock over her dad’s glass of milk or something,” he said.

Beryl persuaded him, and he sat next to her father at the table.

“Sure enough, I knocked his glass over, and milk spilled all over his plate!” Mel recalled. “I was so embarrassed.”

Her father just kept eating and never said a word.

It didn’t take long for Mel to decide he wanted to marry Beryl.

“She was a good girl, and her folks treated me well,” he said, grinning. “And I occupied all her time.”

Neither of them remembers a proposal, but when she was 15, they drove to Grandview, Washington, and picked out a ring.

“I think it was mutual admiration, and it was accepted that we’d get married,” Beryl said.

Both sets of parents had to go to Yakima with them to sign for their marriage license.

Mel shrugged.

“Everyone was quitting school and getting married,” he said. “When we quit school and got married, five other couples did, too.”

Beryl felt she was mature enough at 15. She’d cared of her younger brother for years.

“I knew how to take care of a baby, and I knew how to cook,” she said.

On Jan. 21, 1951, at 16, and 15, they married.

“We had a big church wedding with 200 guests,” Beryl said.

Her husband grinned.

“One reason we stayed married so long is we had two preachers do the wedding.”

There was no honeymoon.

“There was nowhere to go, and we didn’t have a car,” Mel explained.

Beryl kept house, and Mel worked at the bowling alley setting pins and in nearby orchards trimming trees.

Thus began 70 years of frequent moves, thrilling adventures, and lasting love.

In July 1951, they welcomed daughter, Deana. Beryl went into labor after an afternoon of jack rabbit hunting.

“I named her Deana because I named my doll Deana, and I liked the name,” Beryl said.

The fee for the delivery and required three-day hospital stay? Seventy-five dollars. Still, that was a lot for two teenagers living on one income.

In October 1952, son, Melvin Jr. joined the family, Mel senior was working the graveyard shift on the McNary Dam, and the family was living in Umatilla, Oregon.

When Beryl told him her water broke, he hustled her and Deana to the car, to get her to Sunnyside, Washington, for the birth.

“There wasn’t a bridge across the Columbia at the time,” he said. “Just a ferry.”

They arrived just as the ferry set sail.

Mel sprang into action.

“I blinked my lights and yelled, ‘My wife’s having a baby!’ “

The ferry captain turned the boat around and allowed them to board.

Shortly after the birth of their son, Mel was laid off from his job at the dam. His sister in California told him there were plenty of jobs where she lived, so with $50 in his pocket, he and the family set off.

“We stopped in Riverside and sold my spare tire and wheel for $15, so I could buy milk for the babies,” Mel recalled.

He found work at a potato warehouse, unloading trucks filled with bags of spuds.

“By the time I got off work, my arms hurt so bad I could hardly stand it,” he said.

He was an 18-year-old father of two at the time, and asked if he could bring home the potatoes that fell on the ground.

“We had mashed potatoes and gravy for Christmas dinner that year,” Beryl said. “That’s all.”

Soon, they returned to Eastern Washington, and the farm work Mel knew so well.

Daughter Rejeana arrived in 1955. They were living in Lind, Washington, when son Doug completed the family. Beryl was cooking for a seven-man harvest crew when she went into labor.

“I was 21 when I had my last child and 34 when I became a grandmother,” she said.

In 1961, a new venture beckoned when Beryl’s brother asked them to go into business with him in Connecticut.

“He’d got a deal on an A&W restaurant,” Mel said. “But it didn’t work out.”

Mel, now an ironworker moved the family back to Sunnyside, where in 1969, fate intervened and altered his career path. The family owned several acres and some horses, and one of those horses reared up and kicked Mel in the head, permanently blinding him in the right eye. He decided a career change was in order and chose to study aviation mechanics at Spokane Community College.

The family moved to Spokane in 1970, where Mel pursued his new career, earning his pilot’s license along the way.

Both he and Beryl had always loved airplanes, and once he’d purchased his own Cessna, he encouraged his wife to get her license.

“I tried and tried to get her to take some lessons,” he said. “I wanted her to be able to land the plane if something happened to me, but she wouldn’t do it. Finally, I told her the only reason you won’t learn to fly is because you can’t.”

That did the trick.

She quickly earned her license and had her own plane. She even joined The Ninety-Nines, an international organization of women pilots, whose first president was Amelia Earhart.

Mel ended up teaching the same aviation mechanics course he’d graduated from at SCC for 21 years, and then worked in the college’s automotive parts department before retiring in 1999.

He also became an avid classic car buff, restoring many cars over the years. In their 70s the couple picked up motorcycle riding and went on many bike trips.

At 86, Mel is still working on airplanes and cars.

“I’ve always worked,” he said.

Beryl nodded.

“We grew up together. We’ve always done everything together,” she said. “We had to depend on each other – there was no one else.”

When asked the secret to their 70-year union, Mel laughed and uttered two words: “Give in.”

And those love notes written to him by Beryl at another girl’s behest?

“I think we were married before I ever said anything about it,” she said, shrugging.

Mel squeezed her hand.

“She got ahold of me and never let go,” he said.

Beryl, 86, smiled.

“He’s tenderhearted,” she said. “He’s special.”

[PB]

Yabbut ...... they got things sorted out before dish washers were invented.

[Iowagriz]

Awesome story, thanks for sharing

Sent from my SM-N975U using Tapatalk

[Woodsy]

Fucking throw pillows. Ornamental pillows, on the bed take em off to sleep, put em on in the AM. Couches & chairs, cant fucking sit down so they get thrown on floor.

[ötzi]

I do not get the pillows at all. Not even a little.

Super nice story KQ. But I bet they had their moments.

[Core Shot]

Fucking throw pillows. Ornamental pillows, on the bed take em off to sleep, put em on in the AM. Couches & chairs, cant fucking sit down so they get thrown on floor.

Has your wife discovered outdoor pillows?

I can mail you a dozen.

[seano732]

Fucking throw pillows. Ornamental pillows, on the bed take em off to sleep, put em on in the AM. Couches & chairs, cant fucking sit down so they get thrown on floor.

THIS X 10000000. Seriously, WTF.

[Danno]

Throw pillows is something they clearly teach in woman school and do not teach in man school.

[Ted Striker]

[XXX-er]

I do not get the pillows at all. Not even a little.

Super nice story KQ. But I bet they had their moments.

GF tells me they are for the menopause

just grab a cold pillow to hug and cycle thru them all

which is why there are so many

[mmmm...pow!]

Umm...throw pillow. It's in the fucking name. Just there to be thrown from where it is to somewhere else.

[Marshall Tucker]

Were and how the fuck did you find pillows when MS. MT BOUGHT ALL OF THEM. EVERY LAST ONE.

Wait Are you stealing from me?

[HD333]

My lovely wife has a rotation of pillows she uses for couches based on the season.

And I just counted 11 pillows currently on our bed.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[AK47bp]

Were and how the fuck did you find pillows when MS. MT BOUGHT ALL OF THEM. EVERY LAST ONE.

Wait Are you stealing from me?

Sent from my iPhone using TGR Forums

[Core Shot]

Sent from my iPhone using TGR Forums

If the my pillow guy wasn’t so retarded he would have cornered the chick throw pillow industry.

[Ted Striker]

10% Egyptian Cotton
90% Cocaine

[old goat]

My lovely wife has a rotation of pillows she uses for couches based on the season.

And I just counted 11 pillows currently on our bed.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

She's sending you a message--go sleep somewhere else.

[easyrdr]

If it is a seat, we have a pillow on it. I was told they really bring the house together because the hits of color on the pillows flow from room to room. Not sure how the flow works when I throw the pillow on the floor to sit down.

As for the bed there are so many fucking pillows it's dumb. They go from the bed to the floor over and over again, not used for a damn thing. I fully accept that this is just one of those wife mysteries that will forever remain unexplainable.

[muted]

When this thread started I laughed at all the pillow talk here. Not my problem! Then out of nowhere extra pillows started popping up everywhere in my house like mushrooms after a rain. They popped up on the beds, the couches, outside couches, and now we have seasonal pillows.

To find the remote, phone, lost toy, I have to move 6-8 pillows to see the whole fucking couch every time.

[ötzi]

"I really want to spend some money but we don't actually need anything."

= moar pilloez

Thank jeebus my wife hasn't thought of the seasonal aspect of the pillow world. It's bad enough that about 25 years ago I was reading a biography of H.L. Mencken, who grew up wealthy in a home with many servants. The author mentioned that in Mencken's childhood home the servants would take all the dark oriental rugs out of the house in the spring, clean and store them, and put out lighter rugs for the summer, and then reverse the process in the fall. This seemed kind of cool but kind of crazy and only a thing that people with many servants would even consider doing, and I found it sort of amusing, and then my wife walked by and I mentioned it to her.

Big mistake. Big, big mistake.