While visiting my daughter in Phoenix, I called DF to hear his voice and give him an update. It wasn’t much of an update, since the visit was a lot like every other trip I’ve made.

Doing chores to help out, visiting thrift stores, stopping by The Dollar Tree for odds and ends like a new paring knife and 32 ounces of Silkience shampoo, playing with the dog and binge-watching TV shows Abby thinks I’d enjoy.

Sadly predictable, but it works for me.

At the end of our conversation I told him I’d call again the next day.

“Hoping to report something moderately interesting,” I said.

“Moderate interest is fine,” he replied. “Anything more would be usury.”

A nerdy pun that mentions personal finance: Can’t help lovin’ that man.

 

And as I pointed out in a previous article, “$#*! my boyfriend says,” it’s just his way. Our conversations are often weird and never boring.

 

For those who haven’t been playing along at home: The headline of that piece, and this one, refers to a former Twitter feed. It was written by a dude who liked to post his father’s, uh, salty sayings. Ultimately he turned the tweets into a best-selling book, “Sh*t My Dad Says,” and later a short-lived television series called “$#*! My Dad Says.”

 

 

Since the initial article ran, I’ve been trying to keep track of DF-isms as they occur. The following list probably isn’t exhaustive, since I don’t always remember to take notes. But they’re evidence, once again, that I have found my silly soul mate. Read on and you’ll see what I mean.

 

 

Coffee filters and compression socks

 

After I’d mentioned the word “octopus” during conversation:

“You know, scientists are discovering how smart they really are. In fact, they’re being used to make stock predictions. They call it ‘Octopi Wall Street’.”

 

One day an a cappella choral group called The Bobs came up in conversation. “They’re a Bob-bershop quartet,” DF observed.

 

“This paper coffee filter isn’t too torn to re-use.”

Said after the filter had already been re-used for four or five days. Clark Howard would be proud of this frugal habit, which saves maybe a penny at a time. I prefer to frame it as a green technique, i.e., fewer filters overall in the landfill.

(Although, come to think of it, he puts it in a bin, along with other odds and ends of paper, to use when building fires. If he were a butcher by trade, he’d use everything and the squeal.)

 

While hanging out the bed linens on a sunny, breezy day, he suddenly bellowed:

“I am Laundrymandias! Look on my sheets, ye mighty, and despair.”

(If the reference escapes you, this link can help.)

 

The compression socks I’d sent away for arrived and I immediately started to put them on. Suddenly I realized what a pretty picture I didn’t make, sitting there in the kitchen struggling to pull on knee-length support hose.

“I’m afraid I’m killing the romance by doing this,” I said.

His reply: “There’s nothing more disappointing than watching a woman put on her clothes.”

 

 

Sweet things my boyfriend says

 

 

After reading Joyce Maynard’s achingly painful memoir, “The Best of Us,” I told him I identified with it because most people don’t meet the partners of their dreams in middle age.

He replied, “When I’m awake, I’m dreaming. That’s all I can say about that.”

 

 

 

Upon returning from a trip in early April, I marveled at how much sun was filling our home.

His response: “You are the sun that lights up this house.”

 

A couple of weeks later, out of nowhere: “You are the 1,000-watt halide lamp in my life. Blinding.”

Nothing melts a woman’s heart like being compared to a high-power lamp. Please, DF, don’t ever change.

 

Related reading:

 

• Midlife love rocks! (Ask me how I know)
• Warmth and plenty
• Midlife love STILL rocks