So Frank, it seems that you are my lone ranger. Finally someone acknowledges me. Thank you for the response... I'd blog more if I could figure out how to find my blog quickerly (quicker and quickly - yep, it's really a word.)
So let's talk about them thar New Yorkers!! OK, so I slipped up and married me one. Not just any old northern boy, but a bona-fide, born and raised in Flushing, New Yorker!!
My poor honey is just like a tourist here in the south, even though he's been here for about 10 years now. Every day things, that I take for granted, seem to either fascinate or terrify him.
Take our yard for instance, it's less than an acre of weeds, and trees. In my opinion, we should just get us a goat, and forget about mowing. But our yard is his pride and joy!! He spent more than $1,000 to buy a "yard tractor" with a trailer attached. (Boy - that lawnmower salesman must've seen him coming from a mile away!) Then he NEVER mows the yard, or even allows me to use the "yard tractor" to mow either. He makes me use the neighbor's push mower, because our 2 push mowers don't work, and he afraid that the "yard tractor" will overpower me. (And what! try to mow the neighbor's yard, or make out with our cars?!?!) He is also so proud of our little acre. He tells me all the time, how he always wanted acreage. (haha!-acreage?!?)
Animals - Another NY oddity. He is terrified of possums, cows, horses, snakes and bumblebees. He freaks out every time a bee gets within 3 yards of him! He flaps his arms all over the place like he is having a grand mal seizure.
Possums are another source of husband entertainment. We had one that loved to hang out on our porch and eat cat food every night. One night, my husband decided to take back the porch! So my husband waited in the dark for the possum to appear, and when the little critter strolled up for his evening meal, my husband jumps out of the shadows and screams like a banshee, while waving a kitchen broom over his head. That poor possum damn near had a heart attack right on the spot!! Once little possum, regained his wits, my husband starts poking him with the broom handle. NEVER POKE A POSSUM!! That possum was sooo pissed off, he starts ambling toward Mr. Poker, snarling and spitting with his hackles raised.
Finally my husband, drops the broom and runs for dear life back into the house. (I wish I'd been quicker, I would have locked the door, and left him out there with that possessed possum) Once the husband got back into the house, (and interestingly enough, locked the door, so the possum wouldn't open the door and try to get him) he asked me why that possum got so mad. All I said was, "I dunno, rabies?"
Anyway, I love that man and he makes me laugh so much with his crazy ways. I just hope that some time during our lives together that he'll quit talking so fast and learn to love grits..