The things that come out of Nick's mouth…you can't just make this stuff up.


We're out for a walk to enjoy the sunny evening as dusk falls. Rounding a corner, Nick sees a sign advertising for psychic readings.

Nick: Do you want to know your future?

Me: I'm better off not knowing.

Nick: You know what I think? I think that if I am going to schedule a psychic reading, a good psychic would call me first to help me make the appointment.

The things that come out of Nick's mouth…you can't just make this stuff up.


I was sitting on the couch all mopey because one of my favorite treats had betrayed me. Nick walked in from work and sat on the couch to give me a kiss. Understanding my misery, he gestured toward the pantry to suggest that I comfort myself with a replacement treat.

"Why don't you have some Cheerios? No, not Cheerios. Have some Fritos. No, not Fritos. Hmm." He was spinning his tires, and his face looked pinched as he tried to do a mind-meld with the pantry before locking me in an intense stare. "Crunchy. Orange."

"Cheetos?" I offered.

"That's the one! See? We're perfect for each other."

The things that come out of Nick's mouth…you can't just make this stuff up.


So we're in Minneapolis. Normally the fates aren't in my favor for traveling. I seem to come down with terrible viruses and experience maddening insomnia. That hasn't been the case for awhile now...actually, Nick has been carrying the virus burden lately. He doped up on decongestants before we left yesterday (he was feeling better by nightfall).

I felt great and slept like a baby...except for that jolt awake after "somebody" kicked me. We were walking together later that morning when he apologized. Awake now with my logical sensibilities, I questioned it all.

Me: "How the heck did you happen to kick me!? It was a king-sized bed!"

Nick, sputtering, blushing: "I was trying to get closer!"

His INTENTIONS are so sweet...it's the follow through that we need to work on.

The things that come out of Nick's mouth…you can't just make this stuff up.


We were in the car after an evening shopping excursion. We were both silent and listening to the quiet radio. Nick broke the silence, feeling the pull to confess his dilemma.

"There has been a fly stuck in my car."

I arched an eyebrow, not even turning to look at him as he spoke.

"Yeah. And I would shoo it outside, but it'd probably just DIE. I don't want that on me. I don't want to be a fly-killer."

He quieted. We let the radio fill the silence once more. I was forced to consider the plight of the poor fly for the rest of the drive.

The things that come out of Nick's mouth…you can't just make this stuff up.


I have two desks at work: one at the local regional building, and one at the company headquarters. I've been locked out of one of my desks in the past because I did not have my full set of keys with me. In a moment of delayed enlightenment, I decided to place all my work keys on a ring and attach the ring to my security badge that I wear on my hip. That way, my desk and docking station are accessible to me at all times, no matter the building. GENIUS. When I am not at work, I leave my badge clipped to my purse.

We were walking through a parking garage on Saturday when the clip of the badge broke. At the rolling "ching" of keys against concrete, I stopped and walked back to see what I dropped. Nick looked over my shoulder when I bent to retrieve my badge. He seemed startled to see that my badge had fallen and exclaimed, "Oh!"

I raised my eyebrow and stared back at him curiously as I placed the badge safely in my purse.

(N) I thought it was a spoon. I thought you stepped on a spoon.

(L) …in a parking garage? Really?

(N) [laughing:] I heard you step on a spoon!