Mr. Hippie and I will celebrate our 12th anniversary this August. I fell in love first with his blue eyes, and then with his witticisms. He still makes me laugh. Sometimes purely in chagrin, but laugh nonetheless.
Being that Father's Day will be upon us next Sunday, and Mr. Hippie is the father of our offspring, I decided to devote an entire post to his pearls of inestimable wisdom.
I plumbed the depths of my memory, plus got his guys on board. This a combined effort of devious proportions. Mr. Hippie runs his own roofing business, and has successfully (believe it or not) for over 15 years. I am very proud of him.
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| his pearl to me on our recent bike ride of 27 miles. |
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| "CVS" started fairly innocently, actually referring to the pharmacy. My sibs didn't believe us, and came up with many alternate meanings. I will leave those to your imagination. |
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| When Mr. Hippie and his bros worked together, they made up an imaginary person, Bill the happy Carpenter. They devised all kinds of building site disasters for him. |
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| Mr. Hippie's heart is for mentoring, and it usually takes place at an ungodly hour-if it isn't happening on the roof. |
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| totally into origami |
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| advice to new recruits-quoting an old friend. |
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| I wonder how he gets anywhere without me. He reminds me that he did for over 20 years. I remind him of his many accidents and how he was always late before me. Also, his guys tell me that when Mr. Hippie gives them directions they inevitably get horribly lost. |
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| He has the tenderest heart, and he has the propensity for fainting when he gets hurt. No joke. I just don't have a picture of it. |
Mr. Hippie's favorite Bible story to tell, and his favorite book to preach from (he also moonlights as a preacher) is Jonah. If you know him for any length of time, you will hear from Jonah. And Psalm 40. Or both.
I remember knowing Mr. Hippie for less than a year when our youth group took a trip into Canada. As we were driving back, construction made traffic crossing the Mackinac Bridge come to a standstill-for hours. 7 hours. By the time traffic started flowing again, there was a bus full of hyped up teens, and a quiet mini van. Which we both rode in with a few others. I tried to sleep. He talked, and talked, and talked some more. About Indianapolis and its Children's Museum, among other things. Don't ask me why I remember that.
I have known Mr. Hippie for over half my life now. That is amazing. And my favorite time of the day is still our early morning coffee and chat times.
Where he can dispense more nuggets of wisdom.
Happy Father's Day, Babe! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
