Rubber Chickens

I'm almost positive that I'm starting to run a fever so maybe that explains why I feel like it's urgent to write about the insight I had on the drive home (early) from work:

One of the biggest reasons I love Pants is because of the way he was looking at rubber chickens last night.

Let me explain. There's supposed to be a Big Loud American fly-over at an air show in San Diego in a couple of weeks and Pants's squadron has been chosen to provide it. In order to sort out who actually gets to fly, though, the CO has arranged a talent show. Pants decided he would juggle rubber chickens while dressed as a mullet-wearing redneck to the tune of "In the Mood" performed by chicken squawks. The chickens themselves were clevered fitted by someone in Taiwan with realistic squawk whistles in their throats, and last night when he was practicing they would let out the occasional strangled "bock."

But the way he was looking at them while they tumbled through the air, that's what got me. It was a total quiet focus, neither harried nor relaxed, but just exactly present and plugged in, even when he occasionally dropped one. It's how he looks at me when I talk to him, and it struck me on the drive home today that he really pays attention, and he makes it look easy. For a guy who's often gone for long periods of time, this is incredibly important.

There's a song by the Killers called "Read My Mind" and when I first heard it I loved it and played it way too many times in a row when I was alone in the car. I feel like Pants is often reading my mind-- but not in the sense that he's predicting my thoughts without my having to vocalize them. (In fact, almost every time he tries to do that he's off.) I feel like he's reading more in the way someone reads a book they're really into. They absorb, they process, they remember and come back looking for more. He remembers things I've said, and even when he's quiet for long periods of time, when he does eventually say something to me it's like my words have been rolling over and over in his head like clothes in a really efficient and really quiet Swedish dryer.

I've also noticed and swooned over the fact that he treats me like an MVP conversation partner when we're hanging out in groups. He often tees up my jokes or stories and clears the field to drive an idea my way. I hope I'm effective at doing the same for him because despite his frequent periods of quietness one-on-one, he's got a very easy social vibe.

And then when I was turning into the street where we live and noticing that all the sunflowers are about to pop out and nod everywhere, a great metaphor came to me: Pants has never treated me like the giant umbrella he accidentally brought along when it's clearly not going to rain.