I’m not Scarlett O’Hara

My weekend is full of Santa Claus Parades and Peter Pan rehearsals  – so we’re into reruns…

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I’m not Scarlett O’Hara, which means a regular guy will not ever be able to sweep up into his arms.  I was reminded of this the other night when David hugged me.  I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist and he really did his best not to drop me or give in to the impending hernia.  He didn’t grimace or anything!!  I sighed and let myself down so that we didn’t hurt ourselves.

“The Scarlett O’Hara, being-carried up-the-staircase-thing, just ain’t gonna happen with me.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t have the upper body strength.  I need to do more pushups.”

“Yeah, that… and I don’t weigh 120 lbs and haven’t since I was 12.”

“If you weighed 120 lbs, you’d look like a cadaver.”

“Yes.  But I’d be a cadaver that you could then sweep into your arms and carry up the stairs.”

“Not unless I do a lot more pushups.”

I might have pouted.

In an uncharacteristic Caveman moment of problem-solving, David responded.  “I could drag you up by the hair.”

“Tempting…”