Sight for Sore Eyes

1946:  The Willys Jeep is in production as one of the first civilian four wheel drive vehicles ever made.

1972:  This predecesor to all sport utility vehicles enters antique status.

1981:  My husband is born.

2011:  This 1947 Willys Jeep has been neglected over time, and my husband sees the luster it once had.  He takes in this artifact of vehicle history.

Our carport has had many loves in the 5 years we have lived here.  This particular jeep is the 8th jeep.  It was also preceded by a 2 different Chevy Blazers, a Ford Truck, a Toyota Truck, and even one night with a Jeep Truck.  Our carport/my husband is essentially the pit and the one man crew to give these vehicles another shot on the road.  Most of these wheels don't come with a running engine or with good looks.  Time and again, my husband sees to it that no matter how long the vehicle is in his care, it leaves us a little better off.

I, on the other hand, can practically feel the bugs crawling up my back at the thought of sitting in those worn out seats.  How can this thing possibly be worth anything to anyone?  Why would you want to invest your time and energy into this obviously past it's prime rust bucket with a flat tire. 

As perplexed as I was, it dawned on me that my husband doesn't see what I see.  No, we most definitely do not see eye to eye.  He must see beyond the discolored metal bug graveyard I see and see it for what it could be.  Maybe he is seeing these:

Admittedly, I am practically incapable of visualizing anything.  Seeing is believing, and when I can't see it, I have a hard time believing it.  I can only see the time and money it would take to get The Artifact into the condition these two jeeps are in. 

For the second time in less than a week, I realize that I am the downer of the duo! 

What is my problem?  I can only see the pitfalls of owning such a far cry from a restored vehicle.  Why is it that I can't look at the pros to this or any situation for that matter?  Why can't I see the good in things? 

Now I just need to figure out how to transform my husband's rust goggles to apply to me.  Wouldn't it be nice if he always saw the perfection I could be?  I also need to figure out how to get a prescription for these goggles.  I would love to have better eyesight, less the lasic surgery.  Maybe I just need to change how it is I see rather than worry about how to see without my glasses. 

My Road to the BCS!

War Memorial Stadium was filled with sugar packet confetti and chants of "BCS" after the LSU win Thanksgiving weekend.  How anyone could not feel the overwhelming pride of being a Razorback fan is unimaginable to me. As soon as I step foot into the Mears' home in Little Rock, I request tickets for the Sugar Bowl through the U of A. 

Enter my husband.  Doom and gloom.  I had to break the news that he and I would be making a little trip down to New Orleans assuming we would not be overlooked in the BCS and tickets would fall into my lap.  He, who did not attend the LSU game mind you, was quick to laugh it off that I just gave the U of A a whopping $10 for nothing.

First and foremost, the BCS did not deny my Hogs the coveted berth to the Sugar Bowl.  Second and third, the U of A sent me a ticket rejection email, and my husband retracted his previous statement that he would make the trip with me.  This girl was on a 24 hour roller coaster, and she felt sick! 

Now, at one point in my life, I boasted that my husband and I were two peas in a pod.  "We are mirror images of each other".  Maybe Charlie should be called Bad Luck Chuck, cringe, or maybe somewhere along the way I just flat out broke The Mirror.  How could he possibly not understand how important this milestone was for the football program and for me, the fan?

2 weeks of misery at the Mears' house ensued.   I chickened out on multiple, behind his back, ebay bids.  My co-workers where closing in on their own tickets and trying not to rub it into my wounds.  Argument, after argument, after argument got me absolutely nowhere.  "Why do you need to be there when you can watch it on tv?"  "Why would you want to be herded around with all those people in a place you've never been?"  Is he insane? It sounded like perfection!  Then it hit me......If I am arguing THIS MUCH, I deserve tickets to argue about.

Well it turns out I wasn't alone.  The U of A apparently also thought I deserved tickets to the Sugar Bowl.  It took all of about 3 seconds to call the ticket center after they emailed me about releasing additional tickets.  About 15 minutes later, I was grinning from ear to ear telling everyone about the tickets I just purchased.  Everyone, except my husband, that is.  Crap!  Minor detail right?  "Oh yeah, by the way, I do have tickets after all.  Thanks so much for being so understanding."  Uh, no.

So I decided to lie by omission.  Never really a good idea.  At least it was a week from Christmas.  I thought I could wrap the tickets up "From Husband, To Wife".  Then I could just make a big dramatic scene about how thankful i was for him getting me what I really wanted.  Gameplan underway; tickets not in my mailbox.  Yes, in my excitement, I made a fatal error, and I didn't have the tickets sent to anywhere but my house.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Fast track to the Tuesday before Christmas, still no tickets.  Husband wants to know what I'm going to do about the game.  I felt a sweat break out across my forehead as I was put on the spot.  I cracked under the pressure, and I just threw away my plan.  I told him I had lucked out, and he wasn't all that mad.  I asked if he had intercepted the tickets, and he said he hadn't gotten them.  I had just too suddenly stopped arguing about the game that it seemed fishy.  He still had no desire to head to New Orleans with me.  Stick in the mud.

Liar meets liar!  Liar marries liar!  Liar lies to liar!  Christmas Eve. My family is at our house for the Bowman gift exchange.  Presents dwindle, and finally I get to the last one.  It is from my mom because it says it is from "Santa".  She always put wrapped presents under the tree from "Santa" about 2 weeks early.  "Mommy, why does Santa come to our house before Christmas?"  "He is really busy Ashley.  He is just making sure that he doesn't leave you out."  I pull out a knife set. Typical.  Not really something I asked for.  I am too busy to notice that Charlie is filming this because I just saw 2 glorious Sugar Bowl tickets taped to the side of the knife set.  What??? Oh crap.  No wonder Charlie was so adamant that I didn't get tickets.  No way. Surely not.  I'm so confused.

So, my mom says the tickets aren't from her. Charlie, "Well I got you 2 tickets, and now you have 4 of them."  NO WAY!  As i stare him down, looking for the slightest hint of trickery, he looks kind of teary-eyed, serious.  For a second, I think maybe he is telling the truth.  Only for a second though.  Then, i know better than that.  He is lying through his teeth and doing a pretty excellent job at it too.  I call his bluff.

He admits that on Monday, the day before I confessed, he did actually find 2 tickets in our mailbox.  Luckily for me, I didn't get the bulk of his initial reaction like i thought i had.  Come to think of it, he did seem unusually less mad than I had expected.  I ask if this means he set aside his unwillingness to go, and he says we'll see.  Then I ask my mom if she got me the knife set or not.  Nope.  Santa is not my mom????  How did I get tricked with my own trick?

Cut to Christmas with Charlie's family 2 days later to avoid the arguing in between these 2 celebrations.  Charlie still doesn't want to go.  Seriously?  We are at Christmas dinner, at the table, with all his family, and my lovely mother in law asks the dreadful question.  "So, who is going with you to the Sugar Bowl?"  Not again.  Not at Christmas dinner.  I look at Charlie and reply, "I really don't know.  My husband apparently doesn't want to spend time with his wife."  Way to bring down the holiday Ashley. 

In the Christmas spirit, and I'm sure to lighten the mood, Charlie's sister Amy decides she would like to go.  Merry Christmas to me, but she will have to see if she can get off work considering it is a week away.  After 2 suspenseful days, Amy can go!  My husband is off the hook, and I'm going to see my Razorbacks play in the BCS!