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The odd Couple

10/8/2015

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Picture
My husband and I chilling by the Battenkill River in Arlington, Vermont
​ I recently used this photo as an image for 'The Lovers' as part of an Instagram tarot challenge for the month of October. I liked the idea of two old farts representing the Lovers instead of two youngins. I had this image in mind when I asked a total stranger walking by to capture this exact image.

We were in Vermont for a few days to check out the pretty fall colors. I learned that the locals call us 'Leaf Peepers.' We don't care, we call them 'Shoobies' when they visit our beaches in the summer. So it all comes out in the wash.

Part of our trip was also spent in West Point, NY. My husband is a retired military officer with over thirty years service, so it was natural for him to want to visit West Point Academy and take a tour. His service was in the Air Force, not the Army, but it doesn't matter. They are all comrades.

We chose a two-hour tour which included a tour of the cemetery, which he of course knew I would enjoy.

During the tour, we did our own thing, taking photos, occassionally talking to others. Another woman on the tour seemed to take a fancy to my husband, At least, from my perspective it appeared that everywhere he was, she was right there. Being an Intel guy, he knows a lot of military trivia and details and she was asking him a lot of questions. Typically, he enjoys meeting people and chatting with them, but what I didn't know was that she was driving him nuts and he couldn't shake her loose. 

At some point, she sought me out in the crowd. She approached me abruptly, and got in my face and demanded to know what my interests were. I mean really, she demanded. I'm a pretty private person, not one to tell a stranger my life-story. I hesitated when she asked, I smiled at her and changed the subject. She was relentless, "Surely, you have not sacrificed your life to follow him all over the world without having your own interests." "Surely you're your own person." She started pissing me off because her tone was dismissive of me. She was making assumptions and generalizations about me, like I'm some sort of passive woman who lets her husband chat with other women on tours. She had a preconceived notion that the wife of an officer must fit a certain mold, and that I've been his wife for thirty years and not that we are practically newlyweds with only a few years under our belts.

She demanded, "What are your skills, don't you have any hobbies that interest you? Surely you have your own identity." Oh man, I wanted nothing to do with her. I tried to walk away, but her legs were about two feet longer than mine and there was no escape. I could have turned the tables and asked her what she did and what her interests were, but I decided to have a little fun with her.

I have many interests, and after fifty seven years on the planet I could have shared any number of 'safe' and 'acceptable' interests that I have, art, writing, decorating, photography, or creating beautiful ceremonial objects for weddings. I could have mentioned my love of nature, building dollhouses, or any number of things.

But finally, and uncharacteristically, I turned to her and said, "I'm a tarot reader, I read tarot cards and I am also an ordained minister who officiates weddings for pagan couples." (Now truth be told, I am a non-denominational minister and I write custom wedding ceremonies for any couple who requests my services, pagan couples being among them, but I suspected that the word 'pagan' would freak her out because she genuflected when we entered each of the chapels. Yeah, I know, the devil made me do it.

I was a bit concerned that my husband might be annoyed with me, outing him as the husband of a 'tarot reader' and shattering the myth that she had in her mind about us as a 'proper' military couple. But as it turns out he was delighted by my response and almost choked trying to stifle his laughter. She retreated immediately, never to approach either of us again. We figured she was scared sh*tless that I'd put a hex on her.
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