"Where, Oh Where Are You Tonight?"

My husband is a grumpy old man.

He's not old, but he kinda wants to be grumpy. It's this persona that he is finely crafting for himself, and one for which he is quite proud.

He's had a good teacher: his Dad.

His Dad is one of the most interesting people I have ever met. I can pretty much guarantee that if you met him, you would feel the same. He is loud, gruff, opinionated. He CAN be tender, generous and kind. But he is contrary...con-TRARY...and he knows it. And, at this point, he doesn't really care. That's how he wants it.

Several years ago, he realized that his behavior got a HUGE reaction from his daughters-in-law and his grandchildren, and so that added fuel to his fire. Now, he pretty much yells all the time.

No, really. ALL.THE.TIME.

Well, he would call it talking normally...because he doesn't think of it as yelling. But it is.

Yelling, that is.

Whether he's actually mad about something...or just wants you to bring him another glass of tea...he yells.
He loves to yell at my mother-in-law...in front of my children. Example:

Him: "JACK, where are my socks?"
Her: "I don't know, Gene."
Him: "Well, you had them."
Her: "No, Gene, I never had your socks."
Him: "I KNOW YOU DID!"

And he whistles. OH MY GOODNESS. His whistling could make the most sane person go nuts, because it's all the time. And it's the same random tune.

He sings loud and off-key...in the house, in the yard, IN THE TUB. It's usually old, OLD country songs, or old, OLD-timey Gospel songs.

So, my husband...I see much of his dad in him. Now, I'm not going to handle being yelled at talked loudly to very well at all...and it will not go well for Jim if he tries. Happy wife, happy life, am I right? And, keep up with your own socks.

Anyway, I digress.

Jim has never really liked any of the kids' music...from The Killers to Mandisa to Lecrae...he's got something to say about it: "too loud, too high, can't understand the words." But this morning? I heard blood-curling screams coming from our bathroom. I went in and there was Jim, calmly shaving. On his radio? Deep Purple.

DEEP PURPLE, Y'ALL.

I told him that wasn't very Jesus-y for a Sunday morning. I like for everything to prepare our minds for the message at church. Deep Purple was not gonna cut it.

I don't know why that surprised me. He has questionable taste in music as it is. He is the one who introduced me to the David Allan Coe song, "You Never Even Call Me By My Name."

Check out some of the lyrics: "Well I was drunk the day my Mom got out of prison, and I went to pick her up in the raaaaain. But before I could get to the station in my pick-uuuuup truck, she got runned over by a *danged* old train..."

And you just imagine how he sings it. Country. Twangy. LOUD. Just like his Dad.

And then this afternoon, he pulled this song up on his iPAD...from Buck Owens.

BUCK.OWENS.

Like, from Hee-Haw.

And then he started singing:

"Where, oh where, are you tonight? Why did you leeeave me here all alooooone? I searched the world over and thought I found true love. You mettttt another and phhhtt you were gone."

Classy.

"Sing to the LORD; praise His name. proclaim His salvation day after day." Psalm 96:2