Kind of like this house

My husband's cousin was visiting today. Frank, a sweet, well-meaning family man, who nonetheless tends to put his foot in his mouth. Which I'll get to in a minute. Let me tell you about Frank. He asks about our family, he even listens, but most of all he really likes to talk about himself and throw around jargon uniquely specific to his arcane interests as though we'd all understand. (Or maybe he really thinks we do understand?) Either way, I usually nod my head not bothering to ask the meaning of "kerf," for example. After all, it would only lead down the slippery slope of a topic which--interesting though it might be in brevity--would prove less sufferable in depth.

Frank, on the other hand, is an avid learner. When I mentioned the word "propinquity," partially because I knew he'd bite, he brightened, eyes alert, like an eager puppy. I could almost see his ears perking up. "Propinquity? What would be the meaning of that word?" I knew that he was filing it away in some mental toolbox to fit into an appropriate conversation in the near future. Maybe that's why he'd made it so far in his corporation. That, a moral fortitude, and luck.

Let's face it, we've all had bad luck recently. Even Frank braces himself each time his company conducts more job cuts. The big four nine, he tells us, had been a bigger milestone in his life than turning 50. After 49, apparently, his company cannot lay him off without a damn good reason.

Okay, but there's luck and there's luck. Or maybe a well-planned life and a haphazard life. Which is to say, my husband prepared himself for a virtuous yet lucrative career. Unfortunately, he married a lovely, creative, intelligent woman (moi!) who took a more erratic career path. In fact she's still picking her way through the woods, trying to forge a path towards the golden apple, or some other fairy tale aspiration...a house built of candy? Wait, I must be channeling my children. A room full of porridge? Perhaps not, but certainly a more comfortable bed. Sorry, I'm meandering again. Where is that trail? Oh, yeah. My husband, he planned well, but got bad luck. Frank, if all else fails, at least he married a doctor. He loses his job? Honestly, he wouldn't be trying to figure out whether his kids qualified for CHIP or medical assistance. (Art by Jymi Cliche.)

But about that foot in the mouth thing. During his recent visit, Frank was subject to my son Kyle's wild lamenting over not being able to afford the paint-ball battle his brother and friends were joining the next day. You see Kyle had ignored our relentless efforts to teach him to save his money. He's more likely to instantly spend it before it even reaches his pockets. Frank nodded knowingly. "It's hard to teach the kids these days. As a kids we lived on one side of the street, the houses across the road were water-front homes and by definition our friends there were always more well-off than we were. In fact, our house was humble, you know, kind of like this house..." Ouch! Did I mention Frank and Dear Hubby are in the same profession? Double ouch.