100 - 94 = 6

So let's say your wife gets several packs of card stock. And let's say there are supposed to be 100 sheets in each pack. Let's say your wife is suspicious that there are not 100 sheets in each pack and counts the total number of sheets in the first pack. Let's say there are only 94 sheets. Given my experience, I think it would be safe to assume your wife will not be happy.

And now let's say your unhappy wife asks you to help her count the number of sheets in the remaining packs. What do you do?  How can you show your support?  How can you exceed her expectations in a situation like this?  

The answer to this is so obvious I'm surprised I even have to tell you. But it turns out some wives think you're supposed to literally help her count the sheets in each pack...as in 1, 2, 3, 4, and so on. And believe it or not, I found out there are guys out there that agree.

Are you kidding me? Is that how you exceed your wife's expectations?

So let me detail the blindingly obvious solution so everyone is on the same page.

OK husbands, here is what you do:

Go to the garage and get your dial calipers.

Turn on the air compressor, wait for it to build up pressure, and then blow any dust off of the dial calipers with the air hose.

Get a micro-fiber towel and apply a very light coat of machinist's oil to the towel and lightly wipe down the calipers.

Next, completely close the calipers and check the zero reading.  If the calipers are not reading zero, recalibrate the calipers to ensure the initial reading is zero (you might need to do this a couple of times).

Once your calipers are ready, go back into the house and listen to your wife tell you to "forget it"...she's "already counted the remaining packages." Knowing she is just saying that because she knows you have many other things to do and doesn't want to bother you, you completely ignore her and measure the thickness of one sheet of card stock.

"0.016 inches." you tell your wife. She will stare at you with a face that clearly says 'Oh wow..please tell me more!' Use this opportunity to explain the process to her so she understands exactly what to do in case this happens in the future and you're not there to help her.

As you measure the thickness of the entire stack of cards in the package, explain to her that if there are 100 sheets, the dial calipers will read 1.6 inches. If the measurement is less than 1.6 inches, tell her the math is easy enough. I found providing a written example left her speechless.

You may understand better if I share the remaining steps from my personal experience.  I think it also adds credibility knowing I have already been through this exercise...

As I was coming back down the stairs with the piece of paper from the upstairs office printer, I started explaining how the first stack measured 1.44 inches.  Then I scribbled out the following while giving a verbal explanation of what I was doing...

1.6" - 1.44" = 0.16"
0.16" / 0 .016" per sheet = 10 sheets.

I explained to her the pack was short 10 sheets. Her words, "I know!" filled my heart with joy.  I was so happy to hear she understood what I was saying. And I knew she understood, because as she walked into the other room she said, "Yeah...I got it."

So I measured the next pack and ran the calculations.  I yelled, "This second pack is short 6 sheets."
Her loving voice came back with, "Yeah, I know.  I already counted the sheets in that pack."
"Oh...", I said. "Well, you were right!" I called back to her. She said something, but I wasn't quite able to hear it clearly.  It sounded like "No dip, ducking genius."  Since I could clearly make out the word "genius", I knew she approved.

When I began to measure the third and final stack, my wife said, "I bet it's short 6 as well." as she walked by me towards the bathroom to get something out of her eyes.  I noticed earlier her eyes were bothering her because she rolled them back into her head a few times.
Well, interestingly enough, after my measuring and calculating, she was right!  It was short 6 sheets. Unbelievable!  Unbeknownst to me, I taught her how to use her eyes as calipers!  I mean, she just looked at the last stack and knew it was short 6 sheets. And she was so confident in her abilities, she wanted me to throw the calipers away.  She called out from the bathroom, "...stick the calipers in the grass." ...or something like that.

So there you go, husbands. If after all that your wife is not obviously happier, show her how to use a micrometer to solve the same problem in case the calipers are broken. I cannot tell you how much my wife appreciated that (because she left while I was out in the garage waiting on the air compressor to build up pressure again...).

The Macaroni Moose

What's better than opening a bag of macaroni and having it tear open and throw the noodles all over your kitchen?
Nothing.
No...wait...
...having your nine-month-old 115-pound "moose" start gobbling up the raw macaroni before you can sweep it up.
Yes, that's better.
No...wait...
...having the water boil over while fighting your 115-pound "moose" for the fallen macaroni. Yes, that's better.
No...wait...
...stepping in dog saliva in bare feet from where your 115-pound "moose" licked and drooled all over the floor while you scrambled to turn down the stove.
Yes, my friends, that is indeed better. Dare I say, the best!

LAWD! HE BIG!!!

"OH LAWD!  Yo dog BIG!

He nice?"

"He can be..."

"Lawd, look at them fools.  I gots five chilrens, and them two the onliest ones scared of a dog.  You believe that?  

What kind of dog is that?"

"He's a Rhodesian Ridgeback..."

"A what?"

"A Rhodesian Ridgeback..."

"Lawd, he big!  How big he gonna get?"

"Well, he's 103 pounds right now, but he's only seven months old, so...."

"OH LAWD!  You hear he say?  He say that dog seven months old!  

LAWD! 

Look at them feet!  

Now what kind of dog he is again?"

"A Rhodesian Ridgeback..."

"Well, he sure pretty. But Lawd, he big!"

"Come on you fraidy cats; let's go!"

"But Mama!"

"You see me here pettin' this dog. He sweet.  NOW COME ON!"

"But Mama!"

"I'm fixing to leave they ass...scared of a sweet dog. You believe that?"

"Well, we'll stand over here so your kids can go around..."

"You oughts to just let him off the leash...

I SAID COME ON...and that's the last time I'm gonna say it too!  

You best believe that!  Over an ol' sweet dog... Lawd!

"They ain't no snakes down there is there?"

"No ma'am. I didn't see any..."

Free Ice Cream

Today William and I sold Boy Scout Fair Coupon Books at the Kroger at Echo Lane and I-10. For a couple of hours in the frigid afternoon air, we greeted a steady flow of shoppers from all walks of life.  One by one we asked them if they would be interested in buying a coupon book to support the Boy Scouts of America.  The coupon book is actually a good deal--for $10 you get $400 worth of coupons to Kroger, Luby’s, McDonalds, James Coney Island, and several other Houston businesses.  The three Scouts working this particular Kroger were quite anxious to tell the passersby that the coupon for free Blue Bell ice cream could be used immediately!

At some point during our afternoon sales shift from 2:00 to 4:00, we had a nice woman (though she bordered on obnoxious) donate $50 to William!  She said she wasn't from Houston, but wanted to help the Boy Scouts.  As she rambled incessantly about Boy Scouts, Kansas, and fast food, we thanked her for her generosity.

William was a coupon-book-selling machine.  It didn’t matter who walked into the store--moms, dads, grandparents, college students, the security guard, the cashier on her smoke break...even the acne-faced teenager wearing his blue Kroger vest gathering the shopping carts from the parking lot--everyone was given an opportunity to buy $400 worth of coupons for $10!  And it didn’t matter if William asked the person when they walked into the store...he asked them again when they walked out--just in case they wanted to buy a second coupon book!

William approached one particular older woman who was wearing a faded and tattered sweatsuit.  A lace on her once-white shoes was broken.  It appeared her green and orange wool socks had been in the washing machine many times.
"Excuse me?” William’s little voice called out her.  “Would you like to support the Boy Scouts by buying a coupon book for $10?  It has free ice cream!”
Her apologetic eyes met mine.  I wanted to look away.  I didn’t.  I expected more of what I’d heard many times earlier, ‘Not right now.’
I even had my standard response ready, ‘That’s OK, have a great day!’
In a voice spoken soft enough for only me to hear, she said, “I’m sorry; I cannot afford $10.”
I watched her as she dug through her well-aged handbag.  Seconds later, her age-spotted hand emerged from the bag clinching a one-dollar bill and various scraps of paper.
“Do you accept donations?  Would it be all right if I donated a dollar?”
As I took the coupon book from William and slipped it into one of the plastic Kroger bags in her cart, I said, “That’s very kind of you, but you keep that dollar.  And you keep this coupon book too.”
My hand had not even released the coupon book before tears were visible on her pale cheeks.  The appreciative smile on her face said everything her voice could not.  As she looked down at William, he smiled and said, “There’s a coupon for free ice cream in there too!”

The Chair

My appointment was for 2:00. As I glance up to look at the over-priced clock, I realize my ass hurts from the uncomfortable waiting-room chair. I also realize it's 2:48.

Interestingly--though no shocker to you--if I'm 48 minutes late to an appointment, I have to reschedule. Part of the rescheduling process involves me explaining that it's raining, and Houstonians suck at driving in the rain, and I shouldn't have to pay for a visit!
...but not today.  No, today I was here at 1:55. Rain and all.

It's 2:51.

My doctor recognizes me as he casts a warm smile my way and calls "John Somethingoranother" to come back.
"Mallin. It's Bill Mallin." It doesn't even sound like "John Somethingoranother." UGH!

I cannot see the clock this time. I even leaned to the right to stretch my back. Stupid chair. I hate this chair.

Perhaps I should join the over-weight lady wearing black leggings and hoolahoop earrings. She's bitching at the emotionally detatched receptionist. She's also blocking my view of the clock.

I hate this chair.

I hate that the lady directly across from me is deaf. I know she's deaf because the volume of the Mexican soap opera she's watching on her phone cannot possibly be turned up any louder. I hate Mexican soap operas.

There are 27 lights in the ceiling. There are four speakers, eight A/C vents, three sprinkler heads...

I hate this chair. 

Hoolahoop ears is walking this way eyeing the chair next to mine...HOLY MOTHER OF GOD...IS THAT PERFUME? Please go block the clock again!

It's 3:06.
3:07
3:07:30
3:07:47
...

It's 3:12:13.

Stinky has just informed the deaf girl she has beautiful hair.
My nostrils burn.
Felix is apparently going to leave Maria (or so I gather from my limited Spanish).
John Somethingoranother apparently has a major illness.
Deaf girl does not have beautiful hair.
My ass hurts.
I hate this chair.