Funny Guy Friday... I'm awesome... Ask any tree guy...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     Our front yard is home to three very large Dawn Redwood trees. Cool and beautiful, but they leave thousands of tiny, obnoxious needles all over our yard... and thus, all over our foyer floor.
     I hate those trees.
     Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your viewpoint, their very aggressive roots were intruding all over our yard and so, the trees had to go. A friend of mine is a landscaper and he told me that he "had a guy" who could take care of the job, but he was not sure when he could get to it.
     On Wednesday, I pulled up from work, and, much to my surprise, the trees were down, and Cheryl was standing on our porch talking to "the guy."
     I think they call themselves arborists. Uh-huh. I use my own technical term: tree-cutter-guys.
     As I exited the car, he darted over to me, and without missing a beat, he shook my hand and said... You are Mark Palumbo, you are a legend. You were a couple years ahead of me. I graduated in 1983 and I used to watch you play baseball in high school. You guys were awesome. You won 54 games in a row (technically this was both a true statement and a false statement... I was on the team that won the first 22 games on the way to 54 straight wins, but who am I to interrupt and correct my adoring fans). You were awesome. You were All Met and were captain of that team (all true, I was awesome, All Met and captain of that team). In the summertime, you played with a bunch of guys that I know, and you were a leader on that team... and now you are a big-time lawyer... you are awesome (true, true and true). I was going to just climb the trees and cut them, but then I found out we were doing Mark Palumbo's house, and he is a big-time lawyer, so I brought out the bucket truck. We were not going to have any accidents on this job, and I am getting up all the roots because I don't want Mark Palumbo's boys falling and getting hurt on some root. 
     My man was not done: I remember playing flag football against you and you used to crush us all the time. You were a great athlete (I originally counted this as both true and false... I was a great athlete, but he used the past tense and I am still a great athlete. But you know what? Why quibble? It is true, I was a great athlete).
     Then he expressed his condolences for my father's passing away... almost three years ago. I am really sorry about your dad... I read about it and was going to call you, but then time passed and I just didn't call. I should have! 
     I am sad to say, I had no idea who this very considerate, very astute man was.
     But here is what I did know... I am awesome, and I liked hearing about how awesome I was. I also knew that if I ever need another tree cut down, I have my man.
     But there was more... Cheryl and I had plans that evening to go to dinner and a concert, so I excused myself and went inside to get changed. Cheryl had already gotten ready, but she followed me upstairs anyway and told me that when they first arrived, she greeted them wearing her frumpy work jeans, her unremarkable layered tee shirts, no make-up, and her hair twisted up in her ever-present pencil.
     After getting ready, she had walked outside to take the men some water. This time she was all duded up. My man asked her where her sister was... the one that greeted them earlier. Cheryl assured them that she was one and the same girl. My man said, Man, Mark Palumbo does right by you! (it is true, I do do right by her).
     I am the man!
     And for those of you with a taste for kindergarten humor... I just said do do!
     They did do a great job on the trees, but there was one little problem, they cut our cable while grinding the roots... so... no TV, no telephone, and no internet connection. No big deal because, you may not know this but I am awesome... I can handle any situation without overreacting and panicking. Besides that, I was going out to dinner and a show, and it was probably going to be fixed the next morning. I was willing to overlook my number one fan's teeny tiny little faux pas.
     So... I was feeling pretty good about myself as we headed out for the night.
     When we got home, the kids were doing something really weird.
     I did not really know what to make of it when I saw it, but the only way to describe it is as follows: they were sitting around the living room... looking at each other.... talking... as if engaged in a conversation with another human being... IN THE SAME ROOM... without their communication devices.
     Very odd phenomenon. A lost art... you might say.
     They were actually playing a game called Table Topics. You pick a card and read a question for each person to answer. Questions like... Would you rather be a poor scientist who cures cancer or a rich actor? or... What one trait would you take from each of your siblings? or... Would you rather be able to fly or be invisible?   
     As I walked in the room, they asked me, What trait did you inherit from each of your parents?
     I answered: My dad's parenting skills... and my mother's ability to overreact and panic at the drop of a hat? I kind of lied before when I said I don't overreact and panic. I do... sometimes... just a teensy weensy bit. Blame my mother!
     Grace chimed in and said that she got her pudgy nose from Dad... my no-neck-ness from Dad... problems with my teeth and my bad vision... all from Dad! 
     Wait a second: false, false, false, false, and false. I don't have a pudgy nose, and my neck is just fine. Perhaps the vision and the orthodontics are problematic, but they have surgery for stuff like that. And another thing, my guy had no problems with my neck, my nose, my teeth or my vision.
     Perhaps, Grace was not present for his insightful portrayal of my life and my personality.
     No worries. We have a huge elm tree out back that has to come down in the next few months. I'll make sure my loving daughter is here when my new friend comes back to get the job done.
     He'll tell her: I'm awesome. Ask any arborist.