This is J and I - Sept 2012.
You are probably wondering what in the world a Harfockian is? Well, a Harfockian is just how I refer to the autonomous collective named the Hartsocks. The statements below will hopefully either totally clear this up, or completely confuse you.
The Facts:
- My married last name is Hartsock.
- No one ever spells it right on the first try...or the second try...most of the time it is just easier to not correct them. Some people butcher it so badly that it turns into Harfock, Heartsock, Heresack, Hardstock, or Hardc*ck (Which I have a story for)
- My husband’s family is NOT related to Ben Hartsock that played for The Ohio State University.
- Back when we first married I had a magazine subscription that when it showed up at the house it was addressed to Tamar Grazer-Harfock. At first J and I were confused, but then it just became funny. From then on we have referred to ourselves as The Harfocks or The Harfockians. (ok, so we might be just a little bit weird)
I will tell you some few amazing stories about my husband and how he has warped me during the course of our marriage over the years.
Story #1
One Saturday we were out shopping and J picked us up a little key chain light like the one pictured above.
Actually, he bought 2 of them, a white one for me, and a blue one for himself. After a pretty non-eventful day it was time to go to bed. J went ahead and went upstairs to bed while I took out the dog and locked up the house. I came upstairs and rounded the corner into the bedroom when there J stood shining his blue light on his bare butt singing “Blue Moon”. I laughed so hard I think I peed a little…I still can't hear that song without thinking about this.
Story #2You would think after story #1 I would have learned my lesson…but that was not the case. After a pretty non-eventful day it was time to go to bed. J went ahead and went upstairs to bed while I took out the dog and locked up the house. As I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, I nearly ran into J wearing my swimsuit, and grunting like a body-builder showing me his muscles. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I screamed. Since my torso is much shorter than his he was all hunched over..and looked like Quasimodo wearing a Speedo. After this incident I must say my swimming suit met the trashcan in short order. J will tell this story to anyone who will listen.
Story #3
One Saturday J and I were returning from taking both our cars to get oil changes, when I saw a mouse run across the floor of the garage. I must tell you that I am a mouseophobe, a snakeophobe, and other random small animalphobe. (Yes, I just made up a few words but they are completely accurate.) Anyway, I saw the mouse run behind the small freezer we had in our garage. So, like any red-blooded overly excitable chic what did I do? I rammed the lawnmower into the side of the freezer trapping the mouse behind it by his tail. J arrived home at the exact time I went lawnmower-freezer bashing crazy lady on the poor mouse. I told him...ok I screamed like a crazy madwoman and told him to take care of it. I started mowing the grass, about 5 minutes later J comes out and sticks a shovel about 4 inches from my face, and on it was the dead mouse. I screamed like a crazy woman...I flung the lawnmower, and let me tell you the swear words were plentiful. In J's defense he was just trying to tell me that he had taken care of the problem.
I just wanted to give you all a glimpse into the crazy life that I live. Being married has been an interesting adventure, and I hope we have many more adventures together.
What kind of married life stories do you all have?
