Royal Wedding Edition: An Open Letter to Prince William

Dear Prince,

I really loved your early work. Purple Rain was a great album. What was the deal with changing your name to a symbol?

Sorry, bet you get that a lot. Anyway, I'm guessing our wedding invitation got lost in the mail. I'm not sure what I'll do with a four-slice toaster engraved to you and the new Mrs. Royal Family. To be honest, I haven't really followed the British Monarchy since the American Revolution (no hard feelings, right?) so I'm not sure why your wedding is getting all this attention. Also, I have to admit that I didn't get up at 5:00 AM to watch your wedding, but I couldn't help but see a few parts of it as it was on almost every channel here in the States. However, I've seen a couple of other royal weddings in my day and yours seemed to go a lot smoother than those. Prince Akeem's wedding started out with that crazy "Queen to Be" song and then the whole thing got called off before the vows even started. Then there was Buttercup's marriage to Prince Humperdink. He rushed the ceremony to the "man and wife" part before she even said "I do". That whole wedding was inconceivable. So, congratulations to you and Kate for at least getting through the nuptials. But, seriously, look at these photos and you tell me which guy officiated your wedding and which one was in The Princess Bride. Is it some law that all British bishops or preachers or justices-of-the-peace look like this?  For the love of Harry Caray, trim an eyebrow once in a while.

As you know, Keep A Happy Wife is a world-wide phenomenon and has had nearly four dozen readers from the UK since the blog started in February. As an enterprising young man about to enter married life, I'm sure you are one of those 44 Brits who have read my stuff. However, if you've missed one or two posts, let me offer a little marital wisdom for you.

First, you looked a little nervous during the ceremony. Maybe you were uncomfortable being in front of a crowd or having your picture taken a lot today. However, if you are nervous about the wedding night and your dad didn't have "the talk" with you yet; don't be afraid to ask for advice. If you are looking for counsel from people in attendance at the wedding though, ask David Beckham and not Elton John.

Being a royal newlywed has to be a lot like being a newly married couple in a small town…everybody thinks they have a right to know your business. The only difference between the two being that your private problems get on magazine covers or tabloid TV shows and small town couples end up in the local paper's police blotter next to garage sale ads. (I do have to ask, what is it like to be checking out at the London Wal-Mart and see a picture of yourself and your girlfriend on all the magazine covers? It has to be kind of awkward when the lady in line behind you points out that it is you on all of those tabloids).

The best advice I could give you to deal with all the personal intrusions is to study the life of Sean Penn and do the opposite. Or you could just hire him as a body guard. With his reputation, nobody is gonna mess with you and he seems to have plenty of time on his hands…what's he really done anyway since Fast Times at Ridgemont High?

As I'm sure you read in my first blog post, the most important thing to have done at this point is to have chosen the right woman. From here, your wife is going to look for your unconditional devotion and support – there are no "Plan B's". No Camilla Parker-Bowles (maybe it's a British thing, but nobody over here understands that one at all). Even though you'll have spats about things like how her grilled cheese sandwiches aren't the same as your nanny made them, how you loaded the dishwasher the wrong way or why does your grandmother have to wear a hat THAT big ALL the time - don't let those little things give her any doubt that she is the one you will always love.

Best wishes and God's blessings to you and your bride. If you think of it, take the karaoke mic during the reception and sing "Kiss" – now that would be something worth putting on Entertainment Tonight.

Royally yours,

The Keep A Happy Wife Guy

Three Fundamentals to Dress Buying

A man can learn a lot from his pastor: Biblical truths, practical life lessons, etc. For several years while living in Tennessee our pastor was Pastor Eddie (not to be confused with Cousin Eddie). As a young married man I certainly learned a lot from Pastor Eddie. One thing that still stands out to this day would likely fall into the "practical life lesson" or "etc." categories. And that was how to buy a dress for your wife. The great wisdom he shared with me on this matter was the three fundamentals to buying the wife a dress: "short, tight and low-cut". Our wives got lots of dresses in those days and they looked great. This phrase became to us almost our rallying cry like "Wonder Twin powers activate!" or "All for one and one for all". However when we said "short, tight and low-cut" we didn't touch magic rings or cross swords, we would just high-five or grunt or say "amen".

Well last Saturday I took the Wife dress shopping for Easter. We wandered through Macy's for a while gathering up the first round of dresses for the Wife to try on. As I waited outside the dressing rooms I did a little people-watching (not to be confused with little-people watching "Hey was that Tattoo from Fantasy Island?"). Not surprisingly, only about of a third of the women in the store had husbands with them. What was surprising was most of the husbands didn't look suicidal being there – no comatose stares and no blinking "SOS" like a hostage, either. Another husband sat down next to me and I offered to him the keen observation "dress shopping for your wife, huh?". I expected a Bill Engvall "Here Your Sign" retort like "Nope. Shopping for me. She just tries 'em on 'cause we're the same size. Here's your sign". His response made it clear that he did not speak English and that he may be from Eastern Europe. I don't speak Eastern European, so I just gave him a thumbs-up and hoped that wasn't a vulgar gesture in Eastern Europe.

Just as I was fearing I had started an international incident the Wife came out to model the first dress, which brings us to a few rules to follow when dress shopping with the Wife. First, she will ask your opinion of the dress. Never say the dress looks bad. That is too easily misinterpreted that she looks bad. You like all the dresses – even if you don't. You just have to determine which one you like the best (or dislike the least). Second, if while making the initial pass through the store with the Wife you spot a dress that you like but don't think she'll go for, circle back to it while she's trying something else on and bring it back to her. She'll be in a rhythm at that point and will likely try on anything – well, almost anything (That a black leather dress can't be worn to Easter service is a matter of opinion, right?  What do you think Angelina Jolie wears to church?). Next, you need to have a clue on her size. If you pick something too small, you'll get a "you've got to be kidding" and if you go too big you're walking into a "so you think I'm that fat?". Finally, if you have no opinion whatsoever, you need to deduce what dress she likes best and decide to like that one, too. Saying things like "That's a nice color" or "Hmmm, it's tough to decide because you look pretty in that one, too" will prompt comments from her and you can then just follow along. You didn't have an opinion, but got credit for providing input.

At the end of the evening the Wife found a few dresses that she liked (and they were all nice colors that looked pretty on her). Using gift cards and coupons and secret handshakes, the Wife got three dresses and a jacket for about $17 (or something like that). While short, tight and low-cut may not make it on Easter Sunday, two out of three ain't bad! Pastor Eddie would be proud. (High five).



A Spring Break Adventure with The Wife

Spring Break 2011 is past us now. The Tall One had five baseball games scheduled during the week so we didn't travel at all. For those of you past the age of 21, Spring Break may not mean the same thing to you as it used to. But you've probably got some stories – some of which you'd rather not have anyone know about. I remember one Spring Break back in 1989….(this is where the harp music begins and the picture fades out to signify a flashback sequence, you know like on Wayne's World).

The Wife (actually she wasn't the "Wife" then, she was just the "Girlfriend") and I were leaders at our college in a group called Inter Varsity Christian Fellowship. For Spring Break 1989 the plan was to take a group from our chapter and join others at South Padre Island, Texas for a week and evangelize the spring-breakers. It was a bold idea anyway.

The Wife and I had both lived fairly sheltered lives growing up. I once gave her a hard time when she told me she went to a high school party where wine coolers were present - she didn't drink any, but they were there! (And we all know wine coolers are the devil). So, we were not prepared in the slightest for what we'd see that week.

It was 1989 and 2 Live Crew and Tone Loc were playing on every radio and cassette deck on the Island…except for ours. (That Amy Grant can rock though right?!). The first night there, we were told to walk up and down the beach to get familiar with the area. So we broke up into small teams and off we went with clear eyes and full hearts.

We spotted a festive gathering of people right away and closed in to see what was going on. Turns out this was something sort of like a beauty contest – Miss South Padre Island Spring Break 1989 or something. Turns out the emcee was not at all like Bert Parks, Mario Lopez or Bob Barker. Turns out this local disc-jockey-turned-emcee was actually dumping water on the contestants (okay, so maybe he was a little like Bob Barker). Turns out that these contestants didn't like wearing wet t-shirts at all (Vickie Vallencourt had to be on that stage). We quickly moved along with full eyes and jaws dropped.

As the week went on we looked for ways to minister to the fully-clothed amongst the Spring Breakers. We stumbled on the idea of cruising the strip (based on the last paragraph, let me rephrase that). We stumbled on the idea of cruising the main drag in our passenger van and helping lone drunks or abandoned dates find their way safely back to their hotel. The first guy we picked up nearly barfed all over the van, so it was christened "The Puke Mobile" (not quite the same as "The Mystery Machine", huh). Before we took on our next passenger, we stopped at a McDonald's and got a few dozen bags to use for "sickness containment".

We also learned that opening the van's sliding door and having two or three dudes ask one scared and inebriated female as she stumbled down the street if she wanted a ride was not really effective – especially since there had been abductions of college students in the area around that time. So after a few threats of mace to our guys in the van, we had the Wife and the other girls offer the rides.

While providing free transportation to drunks wasn't what we envisioned when the Wife and I went on the trip, it wasn't a total loss. Some of our passengers were just happy to have a safe ride back to their hotel (or, yes, in some cases to a bar down the street). Some were really scared, lost and needed the help. We had a chance to share the love of Christ with everyone we met in that van. We also had the chance to show them a bit of that love by giving them a condemnation-free ride in The Puke Mobile.

I doubt if any of our passengers would remember their ride with us back in Spring Break '89. I barely remember many of the details (other than Vickie Vallencourt and The Puke Mobile). But, I do remember The Wife and the group of people I was with were committed to finding some way to help people that week. There's a lesson there somewhere. I mean a lesson other than that our kids are never going on Spring Break.

Hearing God With Your Spouse

Good day, folks.  I've got a guest-post-bloggy-thing on a friend's blog today. Please follow the link to her site - God Speaks Today. Sandy is a great friend and, along with Cindy, was the biggest encouragement for me to start my own blog.  So be sure to look around her site while you are there, read some of her posts, check out her bio, rummage through her kitchen cabinets, etc.

The tabs on top of Keep A Happy Wife have been updated today, too.  I knew you were wondering.

Happy Masters Week, everyone.

Happy Thanksgiving??? Pass the Mac ‘n Cheese!

Let me begin by saying I want to offer a humble apology to the brilliant minds and exceptionally attractive people in the meteorological community. I greatly underestimated your power to not only predict, but control the weather to exact your revenge on smart-aleck bloggers. Since my last blog was posted ("Thoughts on Meteorology…") the temperature dropped 30 degrees in less than 48 hours and has been snowing. Do I need to offer up a bucket of chicken as a sacrifice like Cerrano (aka President David Palmer) did to Jobu in Major League ("Hey, bartender, Jobu needs a refill")?

No, I'm not talking about Thanksgiving because instead of a "March" we've been blessed (thank you, Storm Team) with a second "November" (sans fried turkey and football). I'm talking about Thanksgiving – specifically, being thankful - because…well, is there a bad time to be thankful? Plus, any loser can be thankful on Thanksgiving.

On Sunday, we missed church and had a family devotion time instead. (Just in case Reverend Al Green, Father Guido Sarducci or, more possibly, our own pastor is reading this…I am not advocating skipping church, but stuff happens). The devotion was quite simple. We read I Thessalonians 5:18 ("In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you") and then we all took some time and made a list of the things we are each thankful for (or "made a list of the things for which we are each thankful" for the grammar police out there). Whenever someone is asked that question, they tend to gravitate towards the higher concepts of their lives and we did some of that, too. As we each read our lists aloud all the expected items were accounted for: family, peace, God, work and friends were on every list in some form. The Tall One (that's the Wife's name for our older son) predictably included his girlfriend on his list. The Wife and I had her on our lists, too. I was thankful that she was a nice and godly young lady - which she is.  A very sweet girl. The Wife was thankful she was "not a ho". Same thing, right?

The Tall One also had his car on his list and lacrosse. Lacrosse? I didn't even know he liked lacrosse. He then clarified "THE CROSS". Oh, ok. I get it.

However, the list from The Short One (the Wife's name for – you guessed it - our younger son) may have been the most interesting. A 12-year old boy's list includes some of the higher concept things (peace, love, freedom and Jesus were all there) but some very basic things, too. Contact lenses (he just got them a couple of weeks ago), Xbox and mac 'n cheese were all on his list.

We discussed that it is important to be thankful towards others because, as the Tall One pointed out, it makes them feel good and appreciated. We also believed that expressing thanks to someone (aka the "thankee") acknowledges the importance of who they are to us. And, (whether the "thankee" be God or another person) it also reminds us (the "thanker") that we cannot exist, let alone thrive in this life, on our own.

My unscientific and scarcely researched conclusion is that as we get older we can easily enumerate the universally important "high concepts" for which we are thankful. We go there first because: one, we gain a better understanding of their importance as we mature; and, two, those are the things that we are supposed to put a list of things we are thankful for, right? However, losing a sense of thanksgiving about the "basic elements" of life (insert your version of "mac 'n cheese" here) implies that we not only may take it for granted, but that we no longer require the participation of God or any other "thankee" in the so-called little things of our lives.

So, while it is not Thanksgiving – actually, it may be Thanksgiving in Canada. They are on the metric calendar and I'm not good with the Metric to American conversions – where was I? Oh yeah…So while it is not Thanksgiving, take a moment to consider the "little things" in your life that you can be thankful for. Specifically, think of those things about your spouse that while they may not go unnoticed by you, they may not get mentioned often enough.

For the Wife, I am thankful that she doesn't cook meals that she knows I'll hate. I know that's not always easy on her, but I can't remember the last time there was a brussel sprout in our kitchen. I'm thankful that she plays golf. I know it's not the Wife's favorite thing, but she took up golf so she could spend time with me and the Boys. She made that become our "family sport". I'm also thankful for when the Wife dresses in the background color of this blog site. The Wife looks so good "someone should put her on a plate and sop her up with a biscuit" when she's in this color. (Seriously, there was a time when everything I bought her was this color). Finally, I'm thankful when the Wife wears boots. She can rock a pair of boots. So, for our anniversary the Wife may be getting a pair of light blue boots. Don't tell her though; I want it to be a surprise.

To you, dear reader, I leave you with the immortal words of Elvis Presley, "Thank you, thank you very much" or as Latka Gravas would say "Tenk you veddy much".

Thoughts on Meteorology and the First Signs of Spring

The wife knows I'm not a fan of local news. It's all homicide investigations, poorly reported sports and the weather. That's the worst of it - the weather. They call their otherwise unemployable weather people "The Storm Team" as they overuse gadgets with hyperbolic names like "Mega Gargantu-Doppler 3000". If you are using expensive radar technology to zoom into your ex-wife's backyard, then you have problems.

"Loud Noises!"

It's not just the locals (and believe me, it is likely the locals where you live, too. It's the same most places). They've given these people their own cable channel (who do they think they are? Celebrity chefs? Oprah? For a slight tangent on cable shows, click here). The weathermen and weathergirls (or as they like to be called, "meteorologists") give us terms like partly sunny and partly cloudy and they don't know the difference between the two. (There is a reason that this guy played the weatherman in Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.)

After a long, dark, cold winter we are ready for signs of hope and renewal – signs of spring. Traditionally, the weather people would be the prophets carrying the message of this welcome change in seasons. They would wear us out with the whole groundhog thing on February 2^nd, but we would be OK with it as it would be the first mention of spring. A couple of weeks later they'd tempt you with a ridiculous 30 day forecast that shows a few days stretching up to the lower 70s. Then, finally they would show us video of an egg standing on end at the equinox and declare spring's arrival. Well, now they've messed that up. They have proclaimed March 1 as "meteorological spring". First, Al Roker got skinny, now this. These people have got to be stopped.

So, we've known for a while now that we can't count on them to get the weather right (the symbol in the forecast for today has a sun peeking out from behind a cloud with rain and a lightning bolt coming from the cloud. Add a snow flake, a tornado and a question mark and I think they'll have all their bases covered. Better yet, just put down the question mark. It's more honest.) Now we can't even rely on them to tell us when spring begins. You can always look to the more traditional signs of spring like the birds chirping, flowers blooming and trees blossoming (or do trees bloom and flowers blossom?). However, as I'm sure you do, too, I have my own signs I look for to tell me that spring is, at long last, here.

The Masters. Not so much the golf tournament itself ("Cinderella boy, tears in his eyes"), but the commercials that air a couple of weeks before it: The serene video of azaleas blooming into blossom and dogwoods blossoming into bloom with the soft tones of The Masters theme song in the background. This is not only a reminder that the wife and I haven't played golf in five months, it also means that spring is ready to embrace us with warmth and sunshine and pollen and Cadbury eggs.

Women wearing shorts. Now, it's not what you may be thinking, so allow me to explain. Guys will wear shorts in any weather. It can be 10-below with a foot of snow on the ground and a guy will go outside in shorts ("I only have to be outside from the car to the store"). A woman wouldn't do that. You rarely see a woman out in shorts if the weather doesn't call for it. So, when you see a woman outside in shorts you can thank the God of Nature…spring is back. Women readers, please skip the next paragraph.

"I love ya honey"

Pssst, hey dude…do you think the women bought that? It sounded pretty good, didn't it? If we get a cold snap in a few days go to the store in shorts so we don't blow our cover. Hey, man – quit singing "Hot Legs". That won't help our cause so get that song out of your head already. Thanks, bro.

Hey! Welcome back, ladies. You didn't miss much. Just a little guy talk…grunting and burping, mostly.

Finally, the most accurate sign of spring around our house is a calendar full of baseball. Both of our boys play for their schools, I help coach one of their teams and the wife and I (mostly the wife) do a lot of volunteer work with the entire high school program. From Saturday March 19^th through April 2^nd we have baseball on the schedule every single day. I don't think God rested on the seventh day. I think He said "let's play two". So, honey, put on your shorts…we are headed to the ball park. But be sure to check the weather before we go.

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Don't go just yet.  If you've got a favorite first sign of spring (or Masters' moment or Rod Stewart song), put it in the comments section below.  Also, the buttons at the top of the page always have a little gem of interest, too.  Thanks for stopping by.

How 3M Can Help Your Love Life

That's Costner on the left

When you think "kiss", what comes to mind?:

a. Long, slow, deep, soft wet kisses that last for three days

b. That band Gene Simmons was in before he was on reality TV.

c. Keep It Simple, Stupid.

All of the above is really the right answer, but each on their own would make a fun blog topic. I could write about "Bull Durham", romantic sports movies or Kevin Costner's over-acting (also see Reeves,Keanu). I could easily write on outrageous rock bands of the 70s and 80 – well, they do call me "Dr. Love" ("really, they do?" you may ask. No, not really. Nobody has ever called me that, but feel free to start that trend if you like.) The topic for today though is the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Don't take any offense at the reference to "stupid". It's positive slang used by the kids these days like "phat", "dope" and "LOL". (Honesty, though, I'm not sure what it means when people call you an "LOL" in a text message. I get that a lot though, so I hope it is good). Actually, the whole "stupid is positive slang" thing? I just made it up. Forget all that. (Sorry, I've made up two outrageous stories in one paragraph. I apologize unequivocally.) Try to hang with me anyway.


The point here is how to "keep it simple, stupid sport" in being romantic (let's try a word better than "stupid"). Being romantic does not require expensive gifts or great creativity. Quite frankly, I have the fine folks at 3M to thank for one of the most effective romantic gestures ever. Over two years ago, I randomly left the wife this message on a post-it note on the driver's side visor of her van.

It has stayed there ever since… Anybody who says America can't produce a quality product hasn't used a post-it note in a while.


The wife says it surprises her every time she flips down the visor (fortunately, not surprising enough for her to run into a ditch) and reminds her that she is loved. There is nothing more "keep it simple, skippy" than this. It took zero planning. You don't have to write a poem and rack your brain trying to find a word that rhymes with your wife's name (Mulva?) or remember how many syllables in the second line of a haiku (seven, by the way).

It was not expensive. There is a time for spending a little dough and buying your lady something special (And I don't mean: "Go ahead and super-size that value meal for yourself, darlin'. You deserve it"). However, it is not necessary to break the bank to be romantic. You also know how I feel about greeting cards. Sorry, Hallmark - giant waste of money. The little note I left the wife cost about 7 cents. Now THAT is "keeping it simple, stinky".


Most importantly, it is effective. She gets that message a few hundred times a year from that one little note (God bless you 3M… can I get some product endorsement here?).


So, what I want you to do now, guys, is take a post-it note pad out of your desk or briefcase. Jot down the first thing that pops in your head about your wife. Keep it simple, but don't be stupid. "What's for dinner?" or "You look good with a little weight on you" are not your best ideas. Then hide the note in a spot you know she'll find it but won't expect it (medicine cabinet, desk drawer, or you can even borrow my car visor idea). Voila! (That's Latin for "ta-da!") You've just done something very romantic (yet very simple) for your wife. I'll even let you take all the credit.


I hope that by "keeping it simple, sparky" you'll manage to rate a real kiss or two in the process (and I don't mean a small, chocolate candy treat). While you're hiding your note, I'm going to buy some 3M stock just in case this idea takes off.