It’s Not all About His Pirate Booty
I feel sorry for any woman who is not married to a pirate.
My own swashbuckling buccaneer rescued me once again this weekend.
I hate having to be rescued. And I really hate asking to be rescued. But if it has to happen, thank goodness I have Cap’n Firepants to do the rescuing.
Cap’n Firepants may not be a pirate in real life, but no genuine pirate would be fierce enough to face my husband’s daily trials. Forget scurvy, rotting teeth, and cut-throat shipmates; Cap’n Firepants has to deal with Wonderbutt and me.
At the conclusion of my not-so-great birthday week, Cap’n Firepants sensed that my dissatisfaction with the lack of fireworks and parades in my honor could only be alleviated by one thing – an afternoon of shopping. So he generously volunteered to usher Dimples to her synchronized swimming practice and remain for the entire 2 1/2 hours since she might or might not be feeling well enough to survive the rigors of stretches, laps, and rehearsal for an upcoming show.
I embarked on my afternoon of freedom with high hopes of finding some brown ankle boots to replace the pair that I’ve had for 10 years. Before heading to every woman’s shoe Mecca – Nordstrom’s – I made a quick stop at a mega shoe store across the highway. I scanned the aisles for something that fit my simple criteria: brown, sexy, comfortable, classy, appropriate for work, appropriate for a night out on the town, the envy of all women on earth, reasonably priced.
With that background research accomplished, I now felt I was justified in making a trip to Nordstrom’s. I headed back out to my car to continue my journey.
And my trusty red Rav wouldn’t start.
A few things went through my mind – the first being, “Of course. How else could I end this less than stellar birthday week, but with a disappointing afternoon stranded in the parking lot of a store I’ve already scoured up and down?”
Because it’s all about me, People.
Over the years, Cap’n Firepants has had to: change at least two of my tires, drive home from work to let me into the house, drive home from work to take me to the hospital, stay up until 1 A.M. trying to fix a garage door that I broke (not even ours – long story for another time), and drive to my school because I took the wrong set of keys (his). He has never once complained, called me an idiot, or in any way shape or form used any of these situations to make me feel guilty.
And he didn’t start now.
After I explained the situation, and we decided that I wasn’t exactly in dire straits, being stranded in the parking lot of a major mall in broad daylight with a SuperTarget across the street, he offered to finish up supervising Dimples’ practice, swing by the auto store to get a new battery, swing by our house to pick up his tools, and drive the 20 miles to where my pitiful car that he hates waited to spit grease all over him.
He didn’t even yell at me when it started raining as he began the delicate operation of attaching wires to the new battery. We’re in a SEVERE DROUGHT, People. And it started raining right during the five minute time period that was pretty much the only moment in the last 6 months we would have asked for it to NOT start raining.
The testament to his true nature, though, is that, when he was finished, drenched and filthy, he never even questioned the thought that I was going to continue my shopping.
I defy any Knight in Shining Armor or Swashbuckling Pirate to be more chivalrous than that.
Posted on October 10, 2011, in Cap'n Firepants, Family, Humor, Marriage, Relationships and tagged Cap'n Firepants, chivalry, humor, husband, marriage, pirate, shoes, shopping. Bookmark the permalink. 20 Comments.
– waking up from her delirium –
Did you say you were going shopping for shoes?
Wonderbutt, have you learned how to type?
Aww, good thing he saved the end of your birthday week! I feel the same way about the rain. I really feel like we can’t complain about it but it does seem to rain at the most inopportune times.
Yes. I’m still thinking about writing a post about the great storm we had later that night and its wonderful effects on WB and Mrs. P.I.B. Even better timing.
Sounds like you really have a treasure in Cap’n Firepants.
Don’t tell him, though!
Two questions from my human: 1) Does Cap’n Firepants have an eligible brother 2) Did you find brown ankle boots
We tried sending some of our rain your way – sorry it was poorly timed…we were just tired after 30 hours without a stop!
Sorry. Cap’n Firepants is an only child. Definitely one of a kind. And, no, never found the boots. Admittedly, my expectations might have been a teensy bit high.
I love this story:) It’s so nice to hear about good, honorable and loving husbands out there….and you nabbed one!! I’m sorry your birthday was less-than-ideal…..but maybe the gift was once again being reminded of what an AWESOME husband you have.
I hope you get those shoes at some point too:) 10 years is a long time!
Oh, yes, he is definitely a gift. I don’t have any reason to complain. Somehow that doesn’t keep me from complaining, though…
Time for Cap’t Firepants to get a promotion to Major.
Now that’s a thought. I’ll have to take that under consideration.
Birthday weeks are important. I say, you deserve a do-over.
Thank you! I’ve been trying to tell everyone that. Apparently they think a do-over means that it should be exactly the same…
Good man, that Pirate of yours. Hope you were able to celebrate with new boots!
No boots – but I bought some new clothes, so that might satisfy me for a little bit.
I love your story telling!
Thank you. It’s much worse in person.
It’s so wonderful to have a man who can fix those kinds of things, and who does so gladly.
Here, here on the birthday do-over! Go do something excellent for yourself.
I think we should pity any woman without a Cap’n Firepants in her life! Well done, Cap’n!