I mentioned before that I’ve been learning how much of a process-er my husband is. He needs time to think things through. If we’re honest, the topic of moving back to the States has been in our conversations for almost 2 years now. But no decision was made until this past spring. We went to Ikea at least 5 times before we bought the Alve. Ask him how he likes to eat his sandwiches. (I like to leave the corner.) I think this type of personality is a good balance to mine. While we were in Panama I realized just how much of a process-er Bribri is.
We were on a “remote” island where we were being toured around a “remote” village. Picture National Geographic. Our guide greeted us wearing only a loin cloth (in the front) and bracelets. While walking through said village, a bug landed on my hand. It was a good sized bug, not much bigger than my fingernail. It looked like a stinkbug. With my camera in the other hand, not wanting to make a scene while everyone else was oohing and ahhing over the monkeys, I turned to Brian for help after my attempts to flick it off failed to budge the bug. While the bug continued to make its way toward my hand, Brian cocked his hand for a swift flick, but the flick never came. It hovered over the bug a few inches away, seemingly seeking out the best angle of attack, taking its time to think it through. Enough time passed that I had to use my girly-screamy voice to emphasize the urgency of the situation. I did not care what angle would result in the best trajectory. I just wanted the bug off of my hand. After I growled “Just get the freakin bug off my finger!” he came to my rescue.
It took a few days for this to all settle in my subconscious and for me to recognize what had transpired and what it all meant. But I think it’s fascinating.
fowlerama 