The 29th Short Story
The Girls, Part 3: My Lovely Wife
"The Girls, Part 3: My Lovely Wife"
ANDY'S LESSONS FROM LIFE
My 29th Short Story
This rendition of my life will give you a chance to learn more about my wonderful wife. The front portion of this story is the same used in each of the first parts about our daughters. I suggest reading it again, since it helps set the stage for the main portion about "My Lovely Wife."
Be sure to check out all the pictures and captions that bring to life even more of my story. Without further ado, here it is.
"The Girls, Part 3: My Lovely Wife"
“Raising children is one of the most important and challenging undertakings chosen by a grownup.”
--Andy Skrzynski
Couples face lots of very difficult choices in life, but few are more impactful than helping children learn the best way to deal with the world in which they live. More often than not, during the earliest stages of parenthood, unexpected mishaps confirm our ignorance in handling such endeavors. Fortunately, the amazing hugs, broad smiles, and joyful sparkles in our children’s eyes help us overcome those misgivings.
Around the time of my separation from my second wife in the mid-1980s, I concluded it was time to settle down a bit and entertain the thought of raising children. My dear friend, Bonnie, who still lived in Michigan at the time, had been divorced for a couple of years and her daughters were still quite young.
Shannon, the oldest, was six, going on 12 in her mind. Colleen enjoyed the delightful world of a four-year-old to the fullest.
Before long, Bonnie and I began a long-distance relationship. During that interesting but trying period, while living 1200 miles apart, I would stop by Canton, Michigan on my flights back home to Texas. At that time, I was fulfilling my duties in transferring a project from IBM Kingston, New York to my homebase in Austin.
Bonnie and I always made the best of those weekend hops, playing with the girls in the park or out at the lake, while fitting in romantic flings after we tucked the girls into bed. Following a few bumps along the way, the relationships among the four of us blossomed quite well.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I wanted children, the little girls were thrilled at the thought of having a full-time daddy, and Bonnie didn’t mind a helping hand in raising two young kids.
So, within less than two years of developing our bonds, we got married, and “Our Family” set out on the adventure of our lifetimes. As would be expected, we had a few growing pains, while we tested each other and learned how best to live in some form of harmony. It was a grand time in my life, when I positively loved being a part of The Girls’ lives and them being part of mine.
With marriage plans in the making, I found a wedding band that symbolized my devotion to ALL three girls -- my beautiful wife, Shannon, and Colleen. The lovely trio would remain a significant part of my life until the day I died. That magnificent ring contained three sparkly diamonds, clustered side-by-side at the top of the golden halo around my finger -- the perfect reminder of my commitment.
"My Lovely Wife"
Obviously, without Bonnie, there would be no daughters for me to enjoy and share in the opportunity to help raise those wonderful young girls. My amazing partner-for-life possessed a motherly instinct I admired throughout our parenting years. Always quick on her feet during emergencies, she was all about helping others without being asked.
As if that wasn’t enough, this knock-out gorgeous woman was smart and very witty, while also possessing the ability to cook up a storm. She continually demonstrated an intelligence beyond my earliest expectations and added over 100 pounds to my handsome build in no time at all. Holy macaroni!
Of course, during our initial meetings back in the 1970s, well before she and I got married and for many years that followed, we sparred as if we hated each other. My first wife and I often played double pinochle with Bonnie and her husband at the time.
Knowing full well that Bonnie was devoted to women’s equality and pushing for more rights, I’d await a perfect moment when she made a great move and won a round. With a wry smile, I’d quip, “Hey, not bad for a girl.”
Oh my. Her face would flash red as she shot a glare that could snuff the life from any earthly creature. “You’re just a male chauvinist pig!”
Grinning from ear to ear, I’d calmly reply, “So what. You’re a women’s libber. There’s nothing worse than that!”
She immediately shot back, “Ohhhh, you’re not even worth the trouble! I hate you!” Then, she’d flip me the bird.
Totally satisfied, knowing I successfully got her blood to boil, once again, I’d simply shuffle the cards with a cat-eating grin and deal the next round. Nothing pissed her off more than ignoring her under such circumstances.
Our spouses and anybody in shouting distance would have thought we despised each other to the ends of the earth, but nothing could have been further from the truth. We actually enjoyed the cynical but toyful banter.
We were opposites in so many ways, you’d think we were conceived on different planets, certifying the conjecture that men are from Mars and women from Venus. To be honest, we were probably from planets much further apart and likely from different universes.
From the perspective of those around us, our playful spats were probably not all that funny -- except when they actually were on rare occasions. The time we took dancing lessons, shortly after being married in 1987, and laughed so hard that everybody on the dance floor gawked at us, proved that point.
On the lighter side of Bonnie’s intellectual capabilities, she adhered to very creative undertakings and a willingness to try just about anything from an artistic standpoint. She’d often gather our daughters. “Do you girls want to paint today. I can help.”
Bonnie always jumped right in and started painting versus pausing to ponder her next moves. She’d complete her masterful creations and show the girls the ins and outs of such endeavors, before I would have had the time to plan it all out.
She could paint an elaborate mural across a large wall before I’d figure out what I wanted to portray, which colors to use, and where I’d get started. Even then, nobody would be able to determine what it was that I painted in the first place. I’d admire her work when she was done and wonder, how does she do that?
My engineering frame of mind put me at an undaunting disadvantage when it came to such creative pursuits. Being of sound mind, Bonnie made sure to point out such deficiencies.
Truth be told, over the many decades before and after the two of us were married, we loved sparring and ribbing each other. Such playful spats became a hallmark of our burgeoning relationship, going all the way back to our earliest encounters.
After we tied the knot, there would be times when we’d intently argue with each other during parties or family gatherings. Those around us must have wondered whether we were about to break up and head our separate ways. As committed as we were to each other, the two of us wouldn’t allow such a thing to ever happen.
You see, we’ve been best buddies and soulmates to the end. We’ve certainly tested each other over the years, but one thing was certain, we’ve always been totally devoted to our marriage, no matter what. We just enjoyed making each other's blood boil whenever the opportunity presented itself.
From the very beginning, I knew my flamboyant partner’s taste in music. Bonnie was born to live and die being a Motown Girl. Whenever music from the Supremes or any other group from that era filled the airwaves, her hips moved in step with her favorite tunes, and her arms waved to the beat, while she joyously sang the lyrics as if she was on stage -- right along with them.
For our 40th birthday, her best friend, Sandy, and her cousin, Norene, flew down to Texas from Michigan to help us celebrate. During our party, Bonnie began playing some of her select albums.
As the stereo speakers blared in the background, Bonnie and four of her friends lined up and began belting out the songs. Loving music to the hilt, she knew each lyric to every Motown song ever produced during her teenage years, back in the 60s and 70s.
She regularly danced in the basement with her older sister, Karen. Tired of listening to such “trash,” their father, Joe, set up stereo speakers in the basement, so he didn’t have to hear what they were playing.
At our 40th birthday party, the memory of her teenage years rushed forward, and she’d stick her palm straight out as she sang, “Stop in the name of love!” The others next to her would follow suit, singing and dancing right along with her.
The next album started playing, and Bonnie lifted her hands above her head, as she swiveled her hips and sang, “Ain’t no mountain high enough.” She and her friends had a blast entertaining the 50 or so partygoers that evening. As I videotaped all the going-ons that night, I couldn’t help but think, She’s incredible! I’m one lucky guy!
Nobody could ever claim Bonnie was boring or subdued. Definitely not! We’ve enjoyed some of the craziest things together.
Our mischievous nature surfaced time and time again, while leading us to some of the most exciting times of our lives. We hosted large and lavish parties with anywhere from 30 to over 100 guests. Our spacious 3,400 square-foot home within the Scofield Farms subdivision in Austin, Texas, proved to be the perfect house for such huge gatherings.
Halloween was a special affair that allowed Bonnie to be creative and dress us and our two daughters in colorful costumes that stood apart from all others. Unfortunately, she had a tendency to include skin-clinging tights as part of my costumes. Whether she dressed me as a devious-looking devil, Skeletor, or Little Red Riding Hood, the attire always seemed to include tights, until I finally put my foot down and declared, “No more!”
Some of our zaniest adventures took us to Downtown Austin -- most often on 6th Street -- where plenty of other loonies liked to congregate. Sometimes, we’d bring the girls with us to bear witness to a different side of life, but we’d take them prior to the evening hours, when the ghoulish and zombie-like nightlife of Austin began to stir.
Occasionally, the four of us dressed up in costumes and headed to “The Magic Time Machine” on Riverside Drive. At this very unique restaurant, the waiters and waitresses would also be decked out in colorful costumes and acted out their fanciful parts to make our evening extra special.
One time, Shannon peered at the waitress, dressed as Snow White, “Where’s the bathroom?” With a wry smile, the server immediately hollered, “Potty Train!”
Many of the waiters and waitresses stopped what they were doing and began hooting and hollering as they formed a line. Red as a beet, our astonished daughter was led by the hand. The fun-filled participants of the Potty Train continued singing all the way to the restroom.
On some occasions, we’d hire a babysitter for our daughters, before Bonnie and I traveled down to 6th Street on our own or with other grownups. During those trips, music and alcohol often played a role in some of our less dignified exploits.
One time as the melody of “It Hurts so Good” rolled out from the speakers in a popular bar, Bonnie looked at me. “I love that song. Wanna dance?”
I hesitated a bit as usual when it came to making a fool of myself in public but nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
She rose and stepped on her chair, then onto the tabletop and reached out to me. “Come on, you can do it.”
Rather shocked but lacking better judgment after a couple of strong margaritas, I joined her. As we moved to the rhythm of the music, the eyes of the others in the bar turned our way. At the end of our dance, I squeezed her tight. She’s definitely crazy, but I love her dearly.
During another evening, we were strolling along the south side of 6th Street. As we neared a different bar, great music from the 70s filled the sidewalk. I glanced at Bonnie. “Let’s stop in and listen for a spell.”
Two young musicians challenged each other with different selections on dueling pianos, throughout the evening. We swooned and belted out songs right along with them as the night slipped from one hour to the next. What a blast!
We’d venture down to 6th Street at least once every couple of months and raised hell while unleashing any pent-up parental frustrations we may have endured between those hops. One particular visit stuck out among all the others.
Bonnie could style her hair with the best of them and loved to change her colors, about every year or so. She thrived on adding a bit of flair to her existence. Practically every day, she’d curl and tease her hair to a different style for any situation.
While many women went to the beauty salon for such masterpieces, my lovely wife could whip one out in a matter of a few songs. In the end, my gorgeous wife always looked amazing, as if she was ready to walk down the aisle once again. I’d often stare at her as my heart warmed, she’s absolutely stunning!
Well, I guess she needed another subject to work on, so, during one of her rare visits to Austin, well before we were married, she decided to perform her magic. Her wry grin spread wide. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s have some fun tonight.”
I knew Bonnie all too well, and when she says she’s got an idea, that meant trouble for me, far too often. Being gullible, I reluctantly played along.
She teased our hair and dyed mine orange while coloring hers blue. Then, she helped me select appropriate combinations of patterns and colors for our attire to enhance our appearance. To complement our outlandish clothing, she grabbed two pairs of sunglasses with bright frames, one for her and another for me.
From there, we headed to the Pecan Street Café on 6th Street. We sat down for dinner, before taking to the sidewalks to enjoy the variety of music emanating from many bars and restaurants along the venues, which attracted so many young people to the downtown area.
While we were eating a meal of tantalizing chicken crepes that melted in our mouths, a young man, near our age, pulled up a chair next to me and began to strike a conversation. It didn’t take long before I realized he was hitting on me, and while Bonnie found it a tad bit amusing, I didn’t want to have anything to do with this guy or his intentions.
Normally, I’m one who is very considerate of others' feelings, but in this case, I may have been a bit rude. Ain’t no way I’m hanging around this dude! I certainly didn’t want to leave the slightest doubt where my feelings lied with regards to his solicitation.
Needless to say, I wasn’t about to let Bonnie dye my hair for any future visits to 6th Street. Never in a million years could I have imagined such a reaction from a perfect stranger.
While Bonnie might have been used to such shenanigans, the country boy within me was certainly NOT! She was born and raised in Dearborn, not far from Detroit, and later on, after her daughters were born, she moved and spent time working in Chicago. She was a BIG CITY girl and really didn’t know much about the kind of country living I grew up enjoying.
After we were married and she moved to Texas with her daughters, she fit in well with Austin. It was a little smaller than what she was used to, but it was still a decent sized city with plenty amenities to satisfy her BIG CITY tastes. That being said, she didn’t seem to mind the occasional adventures out into the country arena.
During those joyful journeys, I’d shared my knowledge of farm animals, the pleasures of cleaner country air, and the gorgeous sunrises, sunsets, and vast universe of stars, seen more easily in the open air of vast fields and lakes, outside the city limits. In fact, she grew to love such diversions from the hustle and bustle of the metropolis.
Over time, she learned to adjust and love living away from the commotions and traffic jams, too often found in those larger cities. So much so, that as I retired from IBM after 30 years, we moved from Austin to a tiny, little town in East Texas surrounded by lakes, forests, and lots of God’s wonderful wildlife.
My dear wife proved to be a carefully conceived concoction of mixed blessings to be enjoyed by all of those around her. That being said, beware of messing with her before that first cup of coffee and be forewarned when playing games with that damsel.
Her intense competitiveness regularly shot to lofty peaks during any games we played, either as a family or as a couple, when the girls were asleep or busy with other activities. One thing became quite evident in our earliest interactions, during such matches. Bonnie did not like losing one bit -- no sirree.
You’d think I’d be smarter, but I rarely could resist ill-conceived temptations. My smart-aleckie attempts to soothe her after such losses were rightfully met with dagger eyes and dragon claws.
As crazy as it may have sounded, most of the time we relished needling each other to death. While we’ve grown older, my loving wife has begun to tire of my continued adolescent behavior, and I’ve been painfully slow to learn to hold back on such antics. I just couldn’t imagine giving up on that playful little boy inside of me.
Thankfully, I knew just the right spot along her neck to nibble on to shake her from her funk. She’d instantly morph from, “I can’t stand you!” to “How can I resist your sweet lips?” If there was one thing we’ve stuck by for most of our marriage, it has been to make up before we go to sleep at night.
Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with a bounty of wonderful and heart-warming times with My Love, over the decades, and I couldn’t wish for more. We've relished our life together and truly enjoyed exploring roads and places, never traveled before. In fact, we’ve been happy together for so long that we practically think alike on so many things it has become a bit eerie.
God has been amazing and blessed me with three girls that have enlightened and cheered my life, during our time together. No luckier man exists in this wonderful world of ours.
*********
That's it for now! I hope you enjoyed another revealing part of my life's story and that of my gorgeous wife, Bonnie. There are plenty more stories to share, so never stray too far.
Thank you for your amazing support!
Andy Skrzynski
ANDY'S LESSONS FROM LIFE
My 29th Short Story
This rendition of my life will give you a chance to learn more about my wonderful wife. The front portion of this story is the same used in each of the first parts about our daughters. I suggest reading it again, since it helps set the stage for the main portion about "My Lovely Wife."
Be sure to check out all the pictures and captions that bring to life even more of my story. Without further ado, here it is.
"The Girls, Part 3: My Lovely Wife"
“Raising children is one of the most important and challenging undertakings chosen by a grownup.”
--Andy Skrzynski
Couples face lots of very difficult choices in life, but few are more impactful than helping children learn the best way to deal with the world in which they live. More often than not, during the earliest stages of parenthood, unexpected mishaps confirm our ignorance in handling such endeavors. Fortunately, the amazing hugs, broad smiles, and joyful sparkles in our children’s eyes help us overcome those misgivings.
Around the time of my separation from my second wife in the mid-1980s, I concluded it was time to settle down a bit and entertain the thought of raising children. My dear friend, Bonnie, who still lived in Michigan at the time, had been divorced for a couple of years and her daughters were still quite young.
Shannon, the oldest, was six, going on 12 in her mind. Colleen enjoyed the delightful world of a four-year-old to the fullest.
Before long, Bonnie and I began a long-distance relationship. During that interesting but trying period, while living 1200 miles apart, I would stop by Canton, Michigan on my flights back home to Texas. At that time, I was fulfilling my duties in transferring a project from IBM Kingston, New York to my homebase in Austin.
Bonnie and I always made the best of those weekend hops, playing with the girls in the park or out at the lake, while fitting in romantic flings after we tucked the girls into bed. Following a few bumps along the way, the relationships among the four of us blossomed quite well.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I wanted children, the little girls were thrilled at the thought of having a full-time daddy, and Bonnie didn’t mind a helping hand in raising two young kids.
So, within less than two years of developing our bonds, we got married, and “Our Family” set out on the adventure of our lifetimes. As would be expected, we had a few growing pains, while we tested each other and learned how best to live in some form of harmony. It was a grand time in my life, when I positively loved being a part of The Girls’ lives and them being part of mine.
With marriage plans in the making, I found a wedding band that symbolized my devotion to ALL three girls -- my beautiful wife, Shannon, and Colleen. The lovely trio would remain a significant part of my life until the day I died. That magnificent ring contained three sparkly diamonds, clustered side-by-side at the top of the golden halo around my finger -- the perfect reminder of my commitment.
"My Lovely Wife"
Obviously, without Bonnie, there would be no daughters for me to enjoy and share in the opportunity to help raise those wonderful young girls. My amazing partner-for-life possessed a motherly instinct I admired throughout our parenting years. Always quick on her feet during emergencies, she was all about helping others without being asked.
As if that wasn’t enough, this knock-out gorgeous woman was smart and very witty, while also possessing the ability to cook up a storm. She continually demonstrated an intelligence beyond my earliest expectations and added over 100 pounds to my handsome build in no time at all. Holy macaroni!
Of course, during our initial meetings back in the 1970s, well before she and I got married and for many years that followed, we sparred as if we hated each other. My first wife and I often played double pinochle with Bonnie and her husband at the time.
Knowing full well that Bonnie was devoted to women’s equality and pushing for more rights, I’d await a perfect moment when she made a great move and won a round. With a wry smile, I’d quip, “Hey, not bad for a girl.”
Oh my. Her face would flash red as she shot a glare that could snuff the life from any earthly creature. “You’re just a male chauvinist pig!”
Grinning from ear to ear, I’d calmly reply, “So what. You’re a women’s libber. There’s nothing worse than that!”
She immediately shot back, “Ohhhh, you’re not even worth the trouble! I hate you!” Then, she’d flip me the bird.
Totally satisfied, knowing I successfully got her blood to boil, once again, I’d simply shuffle the cards with a cat-eating grin and deal the next round. Nothing pissed her off more than ignoring her under such circumstances.
Our spouses and anybody in shouting distance would have thought we despised each other to the ends of the earth, but nothing could have been further from the truth. We actually enjoyed the cynical but toyful banter.
We were opposites in so many ways, you’d think we were conceived on different planets, certifying the conjecture that men are from Mars and women from Venus. To be honest, we were probably from planets much further apart and likely from different universes.
From the perspective of those around us, our playful spats were probably not all that funny -- except when they actually were on rare occasions. The time we took dancing lessons, shortly after being married in 1987, and laughed so hard that everybody on the dance floor gawked at us, proved that point.
On the lighter side of Bonnie’s intellectual capabilities, she adhered to very creative undertakings and a willingness to try just about anything from an artistic standpoint. She’d often gather our daughters. “Do you girls want to paint today. I can help.”
Bonnie always jumped right in and started painting versus pausing to ponder her next moves. She’d complete her masterful creations and show the girls the ins and outs of such endeavors, before I would have had the time to plan it all out.
She could paint an elaborate mural across a large wall before I’d figure out what I wanted to portray, which colors to use, and where I’d get started. Even then, nobody would be able to determine what it was that I painted in the first place. I’d admire her work when she was done and wonder, how does she do that?
My engineering frame of mind put me at an undaunting disadvantage when it came to such creative pursuits. Being of sound mind, Bonnie made sure to point out such deficiencies.
Truth be told, over the many decades before and after the two of us were married, we loved sparring and ribbing each other. Such playful spats became a hallmark of our burgeoning relationship, going all the way back to our earliest encounters.
After we tied the knot, there would be times when we’d intently argue with each other during parties or family gatherings. Those around us must have wondered whether we were about to break up and head our separate ways. As committed as we were to each other, the two of us wouldn’t allow such a thing to ever happen.
You see, we’ve been best buddies and soulmates to the end. We’ve certainly tested each other over the years, but one thing was certain, we’ve always been totally devoted to our marriage, no matter what. We just enjoyed making each other's blood boil whenever the opportunity presented itself.
From the very beginning, I knew my flamboyant partner’s taste in music. Bonnie was born to live and die being a Motown Girl. Whenever music from the Supremes or any other group from that era filled the airwaves, her hips moved in step with her favorite tunes, and her arms waved to the beat, while she joyously sang the lyrics as if she was on stage -- right along with them.
For our 40th birthday, her best friend, Sandy, and her cousin, Norene, flew down to Texas from Michigan to help us celebrate. During our party, Bonnie began playing some of her select albums.
As the stereo speakers blared in the background, Bonnie and four of her friends lined up and began belting out the songs. Loving music to the hilt, she knew each lyric to every Motown song ever produced during her teenage years, back in the 60s and 70s.
She regularly danced in the basement with her older sister, Karen. Tired of listening to such “trash,” their father, Joe, set up stereo speakers in the basement, so he didn’t have to hear what they were playing.
At our 40th birthday party, the memory of her teenage years rushed forward, and she’d stick her palm straight out as she sang, “Stop in the name of love!” The others next to her would follow suit, singing and dancing right along with her.
The next album started playing, and Bonnie lifted her hands above her head, as she swiveled her hips and sang, “Ain’t no mountain high enough.” She and her friends had a blast entertaining the 50 or so partygoers that evening. As I videotaped all the going-ons that night, I couldn’t help but think, She’s incredible! I’m one lucky guy!
Nobody could ever claim Bonnie was boring or subdued. Definitely not! We’ve enjoyed some of the craziest things together.
Our mischievous nature surfaced time and time again, while leading us to some of the most exciting times of our lives. We hosted large and lavish parties with anywhere from 30 to over 100 guests. Our spacious 3,400 square-foot home within the Scofield Farms subdivision in Austin, Texas, proved to be the perfect house for such huge gatherings.
Halloween was a special affair that allowed Bonnie to be creative and dress us and our two daughters in colorful costumes that stood apart from all others. Unfortunately, she had a tendency to include skin-clinging tights as part of my costumes. Whether she dressed me as a devious-looking devil, Skeletor, or Little Red Riding Hood, the attire always seemed to include tights, until I finally put my foot down and declared, “No more!”
Some of our zaniest adventures took us to Downtown Austin -- most often on 6th Street -- where plenty of other loonies liked to congregate. Sometimes, we’d bring the girls with us to bear witness to a different side of life, but we’d take them prior to the evening hours, when the ghoulish and zombie-like nightlife of Austin began to stir.
Occasionally, the four of us dressed up in costumes and headed to “The Magic Time Machine” on Riverside Drive. At this very unique restaurant, the waiters and waitresses would also be decked out in colorful costumes and acted out their fanciful parts to make our evening extra special.
One time, Shannon peered at the waitress, dressed as Snow White, “Where’s the bathroom?” With a wry smile, the server immediately hollered, “Potty Train!”
Many of the waiters and waitresses stopped what they were doing and began hooting and hollering as they formed a line. Red as a beet, our astonished daughter was led by the hand. The fun-filled participants of the Potty Train continued singing all the way to the restroom.
On some occasions, we’d hire a babysitter for our daughters, before Bonnie and I traveled down to 6th Street on our own or with other grownups. During those trips, music and alcohol often played a role in some of our less dignified exploits.
One time as the melody of “It Hurts so Good” rolled out from the speakers in a popular bar, Bonnie looked at me. “I love that song. Wanna dance?”
I hesitated a bit as usual when it came to making a fool of myself in public but nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
She rose and stepped on her chair, then onto the tabletop and reached out to me. “Come on, you can do it.”
Rather shocked but lacking better judgment after a couple of strong margaritas, I joined her. As we moved to the rhythm of the music, the eyes of the others in the bar turned our way. At the end of our dance, I squeezed her tight. She’s definitely crazy, but I love her dearly.
During another evening, we were strolling along the south side of 6th Street. As we neared a different bar, great music from the 70s filled the sidewalk. I glanced at Bonnie. “Let’s stop in and listen for a spell.”
Two young musicians challenged each other with different selections on dueling pianos, throughout the evening. We swooned and belted out songs right along with them as the night slipped from one hour to the next. What a blast!
We’d venture down to 6th Street at least once every couple of months and raised hell while unleashing any pent-up parental frustrations we may have endured between those hops. One particular visit stuck out among all the others.
Bonnie could style her hair with the best of them and loved to change her colors, about every year or so. She thrived on adding a bit of flair to her existence. Practically every day, she’d curl and tease her hair to a different style for any situation.
While many women went to the beauty salon for such masterpieces, my lovely wife could whip one out in a matter of a few songs. In the end, my gorgeous wife always looked amazing, as if she was ready to walk down the aisle once again. I’d often stare at her as my heart warmed, she’s absolutely stunning!
Well, I guess she needed another subject to work on, so, during one of her rare visits to Austin, well before we were married, she decided to perform her magic. Her wry grin spread wide. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s have some fun tonight.”
I knew Bonnie all too well, and when she says she’s got an idea, that meant trouble for me, far too often. Being gullible, I reluctantly played along.
She teased our hair and dyed mine orange while coloring hers blue. Then, she helped me select appropriate combinations of patterns and colors for our attire to enhance our appearance. To complement our outlandish clothing, she grabbed two pairs of sunglasses with bright frames, one for her and another for me.
From there, we headed to the Pecan Street Café on 6th Street. We sat down for dinner, before taking to the sidewalks to enjoy the variety of music emanating from many bars and restaurants along the venues, which attracted so many young people to the downtown area.
While we were eating a meal of tantalizing chicken crepes that melted in our mouths, a young man, near our age, pulled up a chair next to me and began to strike a conversation. It didn’t take long before I realized he was hitting on me, and while Bonnie found it a tad bit amusing, I didn’t want to have anything to do with this guy or his intentions.
Normally, I’m one who is very considerate of others' feelings, but in this case, I may have been a bit rude. Ain’t no way I’m hanging around this dude! I certainly didn’t want to leave the slightest doubt where my feelings lied with regards to his solicitation.
Needless to say, I wasn’t about to let Bonnie dye my hair for any future visits to 6th Street. Never in a million years could I have imagined such a reaction from a perfect stranger.
While Bonnie might have been used to such shenanigans, the country boy within me was certainly NOT! She was born and raised in Dearborn, not far from Detroit, and later on, after her daughters were born, she moved and spent time working in Chicago. She was a BIG CITY girl and really didn’t know much about the kind of country living I grew up enjoying.
After we were married and she moved to Texas with her daughters, she fit in well with Austin. It was a little smaller than what she was used to, but it was still a decent sized city with plenty amenities to satisfy her BIG CITY tastes. That being said, she didn’t seem to mind the occasional adventures out into the country arena.
During those joyful journeys, I’d shared my knowledge of farm animals, the pleasures of cleaner country air, and the gorgeous sunrises, sunsets, and vast universe of stars, seen more easily in the open air of vast fields and lakes, outside the city limits. In fact, she grew to love such diversions from the hustle and bustle of the metropolis.
Over time, she learned to adjust and love living away from the commotions and traffic jams, too often found in those larger cities. So much so, that as I retired from IBM after 30 years, we moved from Austin to a tiny, little town in East Texas surrounded by lakes, forests, and lots of God’s wonderful wildlife.
My dear wife proved to be a carefully conceived concoction of mixed blessings to be enjoyed by all of those around her. That being said, beware of messing with her before that first cup of coffee and be forewarned when playing games with that damsel.
Her intense competitiveness regularly shot to lofty peaks during any games we played, either as a family or as a couple, when the girls were asleep or busy with other activities. One thing became quite evident in our earliest interactions, during such matches. Bonnie did not like losing one bit -- no sirree.
You’d think I’d be smarter, but I rarely could resist ill-conceived temptations. My smart-aleckie attempts to soothe her after such losses were rightfully met with dagger eyes and dragon claws.
As crazy as it may have sounded, most of the time we relished needling each other to death. While we’ve grown older, my loving wife has begun to tire of my continued adolescent behavior, and I’ve been painfully slow to learn to hold back on such antics. I just couldn’t imagine giving up on that playful little boy inside of me.
Thankfully, I knew just the right spot along her neck to nibble on to shake her from her funk. She’d instantly morph from, “I can’t stand you!” to “How can I resist your sweet lips?” If there was one thing we’ve stuck by for most of our marriage, it has been to make up before we go to sleep at night.
Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with a bounty of wonderful and heart-warming times with My Love, over the decades, and I couldn’t wish for more. We've relished our life together and truly enjoyed exploring roads and places, never traveled before. In fact, we’ve been happy together for so long that we practically think alike on so many things it has become a bit eerie.
God has been amazing and blessed me with three girls that have enlightened and cheered my life, during our time together. No luckier man exists in this wonderful world of ours.
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That's it for now! I hope you enjoyed another revealing part of my life's story and that of my gorgeous wife, Bonnie. There are plenty more stories to share, so never stray too far.
Thank you for your amazing support!
Andy Skrzynski