Gidget left me the other day.
I don't mean for good. I mean for the next couple of weeks.
She's gone to the Preacher's Wife Summer Seminar in Ocheebobee, Oklahoma. It's something she does every year. I'm glad she gets to go. It ain't easy being a PW. Especially mine.
I know she'll have a great time there, and will no doubt come back refreshed and ready to once again shake hands at the back of the auditorium, do some sick and afflicted visits and experiment with some new Jell-o salad recipes.
But I want you all to remember Gidget in your prayers while she's gone. It can be kinda tough on her being away from me for such a long time. I'm sure you all understand.
You see, Gidget is addicted to me. She can't get enough of me. She can't live without me. Can you blame her?
I don't know who she's gonna fuss over while she's gone; laugh at, who she'll pick on, who's hair she'll re-arrange, who she'll make go for an early morning run, or who's outfit she'll re-work just as they're going out the door.
It's a well know fact that Gidget can't start her day without telling somebody to sign some papers, take things to the Post Office and to trim certain wild hairs out of certain unreachable places. Well, good luck with that.
The Pop Tart and Cheerios breakfast I make her every morning will undoubtedly be replaced with fancy restaurant Eggs Benedict, and big city Steaks instead of grilled weenies. Poor Gidget.
And I doubt there will be any slightly poofy stomachs handy for her to examine, sniff at derisively, and then lecture at for 20 minutes on the evils of Twinkies and the joys of sit ups.
And I don't know who's gonna get up and turn on the fan for her when she gets hot in the middle of the night, then turn OFF the fan when she gets cold 10 minutes later, then turn it back on 5 minutes after that. I don't care how fancy the hotel is, they just don't have people to do that.
And I'd love to hear her plan for when she wakes up from a bad dream all grumpy and scared. I have yet to see a big, long hotel pillow hold her close and rub her head and then get her some juice with a straw.
I don't know who she thinks she's gonna make my favorite chicken and noodles dish for. She has no pans.
Of course, I'll do what I can to help. While she's gone I'll be sure to not exercise, lose my keys 4 times a day, forget to eat, take off my glasses and stick 'em where I've never put them before, wear sweat pants and a dress shirt to church, stay up too late, get up too early, neglect shaving, partially bathe, leave Monopoly game parts all over the house, listen to Jazz too loud for too long, and take no notice of the day of the week.
When she comes home, she'll know she was missed. It's the least I can do.
So pray for Gidget. Poor thing.
And while you're at it, say a word or two for me too.
As together we stand and sing.
BP
I don't mean for good. I mean for the next couple of weeks.
She's gone to the Preacher's Wife Summer Seminar in Ocheebobee, Oklahoma. It's something she does every year. I'm glad she gets to go. It ain't easy being a PW. Especially mine.
I know she'll have a great time there, and will no doubt come back refreshed and ready to once again shake hands at the back of the auditorium, do some sick and afflicted visits and experiment with some new Jell-o salad recipes.
But I want you all to remember Gidget in your prayers while she's gone. It can be kinda tough on her being away from me for such a long time. I'm sure you all understand.
You see, Gidget is addicted to me. She can't get enough of me. She can't live without me. Can you blame her?
I don't know who she's gonna fuss over while she's gone; laugh at, who she'll pick on, who's hair she'll re-arrange, who she'll make go for an early morning run, or who's outfit she'll re-work just as they're going out the door.
It's a well know fact that Gidget can't start her day without telling somebody to sign some papers, take things to the Post Office and to trim certain wild hairs out of certain unreachable places. Well, good luck with that.
The Pop Tart and Cheerios breakfast I make her every morning will undoubtedly be replaced with fancy restaurant Eggs Benedict, and big city Steaks instead of grilled weenies. Poor Gidget.
And I doubt there will be any slightly poofy stomachs handy for her to examine, sniff at derisively, and then lecture at for 20 minutes on the evils of Twinkies and the joys of sit ups.
And I don't know who's gonna get up and turn on the fan for her when she gets hot in the middle of the night, then turn OFF the fan when she gets cold 10 minutes later, then turn it back on 5 minutes after that. I don't care how fancy the hotel is, they just don't have people to do that.
And I'd love to hear her plan for when she wakes up from a bad dream all grumpy and scared. I have yet to see a big, long hotel pillow hold her close and rub her head and then get her some juice with a straw.
I don't know who she thinks she's gonna make my favorite chicken and noodles dish for. She has no pans.
Of course, I'll do what I can to help. While she's gone I'll be sure to not exercise, lose my keys 4 times a day, forget to eat, take off my glasses and stick 'em where I've never put them before, wear sweat pants and a dress shirt to church, stay up too late, get up too early, neglect shaving, partially bathe, leave Monopoly game parts all over the house, listen to Jazz too loud for too long, and take no notice of the day of the week.
When she comes home, she'll know she was missed. It's the least I can do.
So pray for Gidget. Poor thing.
And while you're at it, say a word or two for me too.
As together we stand and sing.
BP
Praying for you both in this difficult time BP.
ReplyDeleteDeacon Giff
Can't you leave the toilet seat up now? Kinda think Gil does that when I'm gone....
ReplyDeleteEvery day. It...is...glorious.
ReplyDelete