Your Honor the Defense wishes to call...

Me! My wonderfully slow witted wife has recently attempted to goad me into some kind of literary sparring match, to validate her bored ramblings with some sort of response. So in an effort at peace and harmony in my home I shall now offer my reasonably sane counterpoints to her obviously insane, inane and trivial diatribe on the spectacular goings on of her daily routine.
1) Summon Your Eagle Powers: first I will concede that I did not think that involving our mildly retarded children in this process was a great idea. However, when pressed, I relented and added that our motto would end up being whatever Easton said first. Why? He is our comedian and he also happens to have his mother tightly wound around his little, broken pinky. Sara and Nixon are powerless against his humor and wit and typically will encourage him to the point of public humiliation for his parental units. If Easton had said "the moon is made of yellow cheese" Jennifer would be examining the Dead Sea Scrolls to find some spiritual relevance.
2)RIP Dear Friend: yes it is true, the 6th member of our family has passed away. We adopted that cute little guy in 2001, gave him a good home and he in turn always made us laugh, or cry-but was always there for us. I was beginning to fear for him recently, as I noticed my wife beginning to abuse him and take him for granted. Leaving him on for hours at a time, forcing him to watch home improvement shows, torturing him with the likes of Good Day Utah and of course the death nail, Oprah. In the end he died malnourished and suffering, it makes me fear for my children, perhaps I should be more involved at home...no that would just eliminate my alibi. Alas, good bye, you will be missed, may you show only episodes of Sportscenter and the A-Team in the next life, well done my good and faithful servant. (am I going to Hell?)
3)Its a good thing: Well, well, well. My greatest suspicions have finally been confirmed. Gentlemen beware, one day your wife will be shopping at a grocery store, like every other god
fearing, republican housewife should. Then the next thing you know, you've got milk on the doorstep. What else does he deliver? And why am I never home when this happens? We had a similar problem when we lived in Provo, it was a mailman. The only lasting effect of that was 5 women on our street ended up pregnant, I will have to monitor this very carefully. As for the radio station, it is a steaming pile of liberal propaganda! I have heard more moderate commentary from radio Saigon. The attitude of Park City, especially with regard to politics, is that we should be as left wing, socialist, communist as possible. Why you ask? Because it doesn't matter! Its like a republican presidential vote in California, by the time the rest of the state has weighed in at the polls, the Park City agenda is brushed aside like the stinking pile of refuse that it is. Perhaps I am being to hard on the "enlightened" masses in Park City, and if I am...tough!
4) California Here I Come: mentally she never left. Our relationship is turning into one of those "I waited for my missionary" relationships that you are warned about. The kind where the missionary goes and has life changing experiences, great spiritual and emotional growth. Meanwhile, the wife...I mean girl waiting, sits at home and laments her state of affairs and wishes she were somewhere else. You may all have the freedom to decide who is who in this scenario. (hint: Jennifer cries about Disneyland and Jonny Rockets)
5) Spring is springing: for those of you that thought your wife could never look anything but
beautiful, move to the Arctic (or Park City) and learn to live with layers. Jennifer is adjusting very nicely, to the right is a photo I took of her this afternoon in her new spring outfit. Honestly, the woman has never been warm a day in her life. When we lived in Scottsdale, she complained about the cold...in August. Perhaps I should have thought this out a little better prior to moving here, but alas, I am but a man and am extremely limited in my ability for cognitive thought. She has been a trooper, to her credit, by the end of the winter she was only sitting on the heat vent crying and telling me she hated me once a day, so we have progress. As much as I mock her, she has been great, she took a flying leap with me (again) and has had absolute faith that we would land on our feet. I may tease her, and poke fun, but she is the best thing that has ever happened to me, I thank my Heavenly Father every day that he forgot to give her the frontal lobe to her brain, thus giving her just the right amount of brain power to suit me.
6) Supermarket Sweep: I knew it was time for Tim to move when his whole day revolved around this show. He was sinking, and taking my wife with him. You know you are in the 3rd level of hell when you can come into your home every day for a week to the frantic cries of "get the meat you idiot, no the steak, are you retarded!" This was a dark chapter in our lives. Nixon and Easton, both in diapers, free ranging around the house, left to their own devices, while Tim and Jennifer shout at the TV for hours on end. Now she wonders why they don't listen to her. There have been several "episodes" where my sweet, simple wife has all but given her life to one TV show or another, I think its a Markin thing. Tim had to go into rehab for his Jerry Springer addiction. Becky lost months to her Mandarin Drama relapse. And as Jennifer so eloquently stated in her own blog, she is suffering some severe withdrawals of her own. If TV meant so much to her, why did she kill it? The female mind is a terrible thing, to waste I mean.
There you have it, 30 minutes and I am all caught up. My wife would have you believe that this is a 30 minute a day task, but we have already addressed her shortcomings in the grey matter department. As a side note, I am finding a growing need to consult a Divorce Attorney, please advise if you know any that work on contingencies. Be vigilant and cautious, Oprah is watching.