To sidetrack for a moment, I must talk about a silly joke that Joe has with some of his siblings. About a year ago, we all went to BYU to see his brother, Tommy, play hockey. After the game, Joe wanted to go and meet Tommy in the locker room. When Joe entered, a fellow player asked who he was, in which Joe responded that he was Tommy's brother. The player then called to Tommy across the room that his brother was here. Without missing a beat, Tommy asked, "does he look mean?" in which the player responded with, "yes." We laughed and laughed because Joe really does have a rough exterior, to say the least. But people who really know him know that he's actually not that way at all, unless poked by a large stick. Earlier this year, when I was in the hospital for my kidney stones, and the doctor ordered an ultra-sound, I asked if Joe could come in with me. The nurse politely asked, "no problem, what does he look like?" My instant response was, "mean and over-protective." The funniest thing of all is she said, "this is the Women's Center. All the men in the waiting room look mean and over protective." In short, Joe is completely harmless and someone that instantly makes people feel welcomed, appreciated, and taken care of. He has more friends that I can count from all walks of life...he just looks mean.
And then there is me. I present my way the best way I know possible, and think I look pretty approachable and kind, in which, I like to think, I am on most occasions. I physically couldn't harm a fly, but I probably could make one cry if I really wanted to. And these darn eyes have a life of their own.
Since we have known each other for six-years, Joe knows when I've reached my point. If he can't figure it out, the eyes certainly notify him. When we are in these situations, and I start to lose my cool, Joe very quietly says, "uh-oh." He knows the wrath has been unleashed (and he is probably pleased it's not at him).
Two times when I have really lost my cool was a year ago Christmas season, when my landlord (now deceased) let tenants stay in the town homes without paying, and he let them keep me up all hours of the day and night, and as an added bonus smoked cigarettes and pot as if we were in Amsterdam. He had the nerve (on a way to a school function), to tell me that "everything was going to be ok." Joe looked at him, looked at me, murmured, "uh-oh," and lets just say everyone finally heard what the quiet, little one really was thinking.
To spend a great deal of money on something always has extra stress, and extra eye-pops. Is it going to be exactly how you wanted? Is it worth all this money? Will people appreciate it? I think about that every day when I am planning my reception for my guests to enjoy. On a snowy-filled Thursday evening, Joe and I had an appointment with one of our vendors, of which we were spending a lot of money on. The drive to their office was horrible, because it was rush hour, a blizzard, and in that freaky place called Utah County. We arrived with a few minutes to spare, met with the owner; everything seemed to be going fine. Now enters Couple #2. Couple #2 immediately gave me the death stare. Why was I sitting in their seat? Is their wedding going to be better than ours? All of this nonsense I could sense through their eyes; maybe it's true maybe it's not, but it certainly makes for a better story.
The owner immediately became flustered and started scrambling through papers on his disgusting desk. "I never overbook. One of you is here on the wrong date." Suddenly, everyone looks at me. Oh no, they didn't. He looks up his calendar, immediately stares at me, and simply says, "you are here on the wrong day." Couple #2 gives a funny little smirk, and as you guessed, Joe whispers, "uh-oh."
What happened in the following five minutes happened so fast, I can't remember it all, scary to say. I feverishly sifted through my wedding book and furnished not one, not two, but three email confirmations signed by the owner himself. One even from the day previous! Joe just stared at the floor and I could hear myself getting louder and louder. I gave him the speech of a lifetime: he shouldn't accuse his customers, he should be more organized, how dare he not take my word for it and insinuate I'm stupid, and on, and on, and on. I then briefly paused, gave him my death ray eyes, and simply stated, "You have two choices. We can pick another vendor, or you can give us a deal of a lifetime." Needless to say, we got the deal of a lifetime. As I exited that room for Couple #2, their eyes, which first met mine twenty minutes ago with a feeling of power, now were glued to the floor.
We got into the car and Joe just immediately started laughing. "I'm so glad that wasn't me," he laughed. Looks can be deceiving. Always be weary of the wee one with "the eyes."
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