SAT Scores

Mike and I have been married almost thirty years and we still learn new things about each other. For example, I had no idea he didn't like mushrooms.

And, when he took his SATs in high school more than thirty years ago, he actually paid attention to what they said. The scores told him that his strengths were in the Social Sciences, so he thought of becoming a nurse or a forester. I'm glad he became a forester. When anyone's sick around here he tells them to get up and run it off. He would not be a very compassionate nurse.

But what I find so fascinating, is that he listened to his high school counselor. My high school counselor, after seeing my SATs, told me that I was not college material and that I might as well count on working in a mill the rest of my life. I think if she knew of my extenuating circumstances, she might have been more kind. My extenuating circumstances were that I had spent the entire night before drinking. It's hard to get a good score on SATs when you're still half drunk or either half hang over.

Two points to this - one, a person's life cannot ever be determined by a standardized test or a crappy high school counselor and two, Mike pays more attention to the details in life than I do, which is why we're a good couple - we balance each other out.

This afternoon I was so desperate to get out of the never-ending-job-from-hell (yes, we're still working on the roof) that I enlisted Ian to help me tear out twenty-five years of barb wire.

This is how I tear down fences. First I unhook all the little wire thingys that hook the rusted wire to the bent fence posts, then I hook up a rope which I hook up to the truck and then I pull. It's quick and easy. Mike can't stand to watch.

This is how Mike tears down a fence. First he gathers all his tools and puts them in his tool belt. Then he carefully unhooks every stray piece of wire. Then he carefully pulls the fence from the T-posts. Then he slowly, and I mean slowly, digs out the wire that is buried in the dirt. Then he rolls up the wire into humongous rolls, loads them in his truck and takes them to the Cemetary of Old Wire.

I drag long, long lengths of wire to the Cemetary of Old Wire. I drag them as quickly as I can. Then, because I'm so much quicker at this than Mike, I have time to play Stunt Man with Ian.

Stunt Man is when Ian holds on to the same rope that pulls the wire out and I drag him across the field. Ian loves it. He loves bouncing along the ground, ripping his sweatshirt, dried cow dung flying across his face.

Mike can't stand to watch.

That's because Mike pays attention to rules and details. This is good when it comes to buying a house or working for the government or balancing a checkbook. It's not so good when it comes to Stunt Man or skiing off the garage in Granby.

This is why Mike and I are such a good pair. Our kids know that if they want guidance and calm, they go to Mike. If they want crazy and risky behavior, they go to me.

So far it works.

Of course, if Ian gets some sort of horrible disease from cow dung I may have to change my approach to the taking down of fences.