Early in our marriage, my husband crossed some unknown airborne allergens with some soy and corn. He topped that off with a walk through a weedy field, and the whole mix put him into anaphylactic shock. What he remembers most about the ER is the oxygen tank. After they hopped him up on Benadryl and Epinephrine, he was pretty comfortable, and with the oxygen on, he found he didn’t need to breathe as often as usual. In fact, he had to remind himself to breathe, because the oxygen pumped in regardless of whether or not he moved his lungs.
Since that night, it’s been Kory’s dream to somehow get back on that oxygen. You see, engineers are smart, but they’re also somewhat lazy. If they can find a way to do something quicker and easier, they’ll pursue it. Even if it’s just breathing. I know, it doesn’t make sense, but if you know any engineers, you know it’s true.
Now, about the time I really got enthusiastic about writing, Kory got it into his head that should I ever make a living off my work, he would retire early. But since being at home would drive him bonkers, he thought he might get a job as a Wal-Mart greeter, which fits in perfectly with his oxygen tank/fewer lung movements fantasy. That’s right, my husband’s goal is to tote his oxygen tank around Wal-Mart, waving cheerily to harried customers, and probably spending his breaks in the electronics department. Sniff. “Aim high, my love.”
So, being the supportive wife, I am pursuing this whole writing books thing. In fact I’m going to a huge Association of Christian Fiction Writers conference in September. When I asked Kory to help me prepare a one sheet (kind of like a resume for a specific book), he enthusiastically agreed. After all, he used to be a graphic designer. But I wasn’t ready for how far he’d go in preparing a sample of my work to hand out to editors I might run across.
The other night he proposed we burn CDs with my resume, picture, and sample chapters. I have to admit, it sounded pretty good, until he suggested we include some footage of me running on the beach. I had to draw the line. All that would get me is a shot at being the “before” spokesperson for a Weight Watchers campaign. But it’s nice to know he believes in me, even if it is only a means to an end, namely, his oxygen tank.
In Others’ Words: Love or Understanding
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