The "L" Chromosome

December 31, 2007

You probably don't know this, but Jared spends 90% of his awake time in a haze of oblivion. He gets plenty of sleep and hasn't smoked pot since the 60's, so as far as I can tell, it's genetic. My interactions with Jared's two brothers also tend to confirm my suspicion: If your last name starts with an "L," ends with an "awson," and you have testicles, then you're probably very confused by day to day life.

Jared's brother Dan is a senior in college, and one heck of a nice guy. Last night I was talking to his girlfriend, and she was kind enough to tell me a great story to add to my bonehead file. A few months ago she sent Dan to the grocery store to buy one package of boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Simple enough, right? Well, ninety minutes later, he returned from the supermarket with a frozen package of chicken cordon bleu, one box of precooked turkey cutlets, a pepperoni stick, and one very proud smile.

Yes, I know--a super ball and two bottles of barbecue sauce would have been equally useful. These guys are something else.

Now that Jared has graduated from chiropractic school, we've been spending a lot of time together in public. It's two parts fun and one part excruciating, but either way you slice it, I've been met with more Lawson cluelessness in the last few days than I've seen in years.

A few days ago, Jared and I were walking through the town center, doing a little bit of post-Christmas window shopping. We paused at Barnes & Noble and were thrilled to see a display window full of New England themed books. "Wow," we exclaimed in unison. We both agreed that it felt awesome to see book covers featuring pictures of foliage and rocky coastlines. You see, most books about Dallas contain pictures of things like Gucci purses, homeless people, and cow poops...you know.

In our moment of excitement, we thought it would be fun to buy one of these books as a welcome home treat. So we walked into the store and began to browse around, looking for the New England section. After a few minutes of looking, I saw Jared approach the check out desk at the front of the store. Naturally, I thought he was seeking out a helpful employee. But as we all know, I'm married to a Lawson male. So naturally, I was wrong.

I watched as my sweet spouse cut a long line of thirty-or-so people, walked behind the check-out counter, STEPPED INTO the window display, and started flipping through some coffee table books. I saw the store clerks whisper to each other and point to my husband--and I'm not 100% sure on this--but I think they were saying something like: "Dude. Who is this guy?" or "What in the crap is up with this weirdo?" or "He's from the group home. Should I page his chaperon?"

As the window shoppers huddled around to snicker at the skinny man in the window, and the clerks dialed security, Jared just kept flipping through his book about covered bridges, whistling a Beetles song, and stopping occasionally to scratch the left side of his rear. Until that point, there had been no indication that I even knew my husband. I just watched the scene unfold out the corner of my eye, as I pretended to choose between the naked fire fighter calendar or the one with kittens tangled in string.

And then, just as I was about to nestle myself safely into the bathroom corridor, Jared peeked up over the display, cupped his hands around his mouth, and was like, "Hey Ames! We should plan a weekend to Vermont. The bridges are really old, and the skiing is killer!"

I was outed. My moment of safe hiding had come to an end. So I calmly approached my husband, smiled as sweetly as I could, and took his hand as I said, "Sure babe, I'd love to go to Vermont...just as soon as YOU GET YOUR DAMN SELF OUT OF THE WINDOW DISPLAY!"

Jared was like, "Huh? Who's standing in a window??? Amy, you confuse me."

Well, I never liked Barnes & Noble much anyway.