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Ashland Daily Tidings (Ashland, OR — Wayback)

2003-03-01

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For parents, the road to romance likely includes a few overturned cement trucks By Ned Hickson Recently, my wife and I celebrated 12 years of marriage. After a fair amount of discussion, we decided that the most appropriate way to commemorate this special occasion would be to run away from our children. For a few days. Now, for those of you who might be shaking your heads and thinking that we used our anniversary as a shameless excuse to shirk our responsibilities as parents just so we could pretend that she is a traveling sales woman and I'm a hotel maintenance worker who comes to fix the shower, you couldn't be further from the truth. There's absolutely no reason why SHE couldn't be the one who comes to fix the shower. *** Besides, the idea of planning a getaway came directly from The Official Anniversary Gift List, which is THE list couples are supposed to use - based on how long they've been married - to determine what to get each other. And let me just say that it takes at least 10 years to get to the good stuff, so when you've actually been married long enough to qualify for something other than Chicklets, Styrofoam or plywood, YOU TAKE IT. According to the official list, the appropriate gift after 12 years of marriage is silk. Now, you're probably wondering how that translates into a weekend without children, so let me explain. First of all, the list expressly says - and I quote - "Be creative." With that in mind, following me through this line of thought: Silk is slick. Which leads to sliding. And therefore the act of slipping. Which is derived from the word "slip." Which, aside from being an undergarment or result of a misstep, can also mean "a clean getaway," i.e., giving your children "The slip." So, as you can see, it was right there in black and white; we really had no choice. *** Step one, of course, was for me to make reservations at a fancy hotel. A place with jacuzzi tubs, a view of the ocean, fire places - basically all the things I'd need in order to score major points on the "romance checklist" my wife was keeping. Although she insisted there was no such checklist - and that it didn't matter WHERE we stayed as long as we were together - she also mentioned that she was feeling highly romantic. And that under the right conditions, there was no telling what could happen. Even though I'm a man, it was clear that the right conditions did not include any place in which the TV remote was bolted to something, or the bed was capable of performing any type of coin-operated function. And, as a man, I also knew what the right conditions could lead to. Which is why, as a man, I had no problem driving 110 miles through a raging storm with wind gusts strong enough to overturn a cement truck in order to reach our hotel. Once we got to our room and began settling in, it seemed that the "romance checklist" had been approved. That's when my wife turned to me and, taking my hand, gently whispered four little words that made me weak in the knees: Let's call the kids. *** At this point, we had been gone for a grand total of three hours. True, it was more than enough time for the cat to get covered in chocolate syrup and my son to stuff a peanut butter sandwich down the VCR, but that's why we were here - so we didn't have to be THERE. And besides; the kids were staying with their grand parents. By now, our children had probably consumed enough candy that getting them to the phone would be like trying to subdue a pair of wild finches on speed. Reluctantly, my wife agreed with this and decided to wait. In the meantime, we began unpacking. When we were done, we sat on the bed and smiled at each other; just the two of us and the crackling fire. "This is nice, huh?" I said. "Um-hmm," my wife purred, and lazily kicked her shoes to the floor - something which, in the Godforsaken utter silence of our room, sounded like a pair of Hellfire Missile strikes. "It's too quiet. I'm calling the kids." "I'll get the cell phone," I said. There IS a point to all of this, and that is � OK, it's not a point as much as it's a moral. And that moral is this: Under the right conditions, anything can happen. We know because it happened to us twice. And in both cases, we still love results - unconditionally. (You can write to Ned Hickson at [email protected], or at the Siuslaw News at P.O. Box 10, Florence, Ore. 97439) LINKS: DAILY TIDINGS: Main | News | Sports | Business | Obituaries | Opinion | Columnists | AP News | Subscribe | Archives | Weather | Classifieds | Contact Us | Privacy REVELS: Main | Calendar | Dining | Movies | T.V. OTHER: Road Cams Copyright 2003 Ashland Daily Tidings 541.482.3456. 1661 Siskiyou Blvd., Ashland, OR 97520. Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. - Advertisers -