Tolerant Wife is Tolerant

Boy, is she ever.

Photo from Spring Schoenhuth.

51 Comments on “Tolerant Wife is Tolerant”

  1. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste money on Powerball tickets…you’ve used up pretty much all your allotted luck the day you met your wife.

  2. I’ve seen this same look from my wife in pictures of us. It’s not tolerance. I thought it was, too. That is, until I read her journal: It’s a combination of pity and bewilderment. With a dash of regret.

  3. O Foolish Scalzi,

    Impatient Executive Committee of The Official Ghlaghghee Fan Club is Impatient.

    Do you realize how much tripe of yours the Executive Committee has had to endure since your last update of the Beauteous Ghlaghghee?

    Way, way too much.


    You know what to do, so hop to it. Now.

    The Official Ghlaghghee Fan Club

  4. That’s the same look our moma-cat used to have when kittens pounced on her. A combination of “oh, how cute,” and “again?”

  5. My wife calls that look her “Here we go again…” look… It usually followed by me getting soundly trounced… But in a good way :D

  6. You know, one day she’s going to find out that you’re not a billionaire-fighter-pilot/surgeon/rock group front man. Then whose brain will you devour?

  7. @ MasterThief


    Use Hugo covered in bacon.

    (As an aside, when are we going to see _that_ picture?) ;)

  8. If I were better at photoshop, you’d sport some fangs and a gold sunburs medallion on a bright red neck ribbon…

  9. That seems to be the same expression she had in your Hugo night picture. I’m starting to suspect that that is just how she looks at you…with bemusement.

  10. Yeah, anyone in a long term relationship is probably familiar with that look. I know that I am.

    Here’s to tolerant partners! Without them, there’d be a whole lot of lonely wierdos.

  11. At least you’re not trying to tape bacon to her. :)

    If I were trying to write a caption for Krissy’s thoughts in that photo, they would be, “I said for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer. I probably should have added ‘for normal, for strange’ to the vows as well.”

  12. Forsaking the speed and pack-hunting of its cousins in favour of clever mimicry, Velociraptor scalzii was able to exploit an untapped hunting ground: genre award banquets.

    /Attenborough VO

  13. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, incarnadine

    I think it’s because she knows that within 6 inches of her right elbow is your tender bitzes.

    Oh, and she probably loves you or something.

  14. @rebecca in #21 I was thinking the same thing. It was a good hair day and there her husband looks like he’s about to ruin it.

  15. My wife, on this picture: “Is it just me, or does every picture of John Scalzi with his wife make it look like she lost a bet?”

    Or maybe she’s projecting.

  16. What impresses me is that your magical gestures managed to levitate those two glowing glyphs made of 4 flowing line segments each. That anyone misinterprets your hand/arm gestures, and your mouth being opened to emit Dread Syllables, just shows that they never graduated from the California Institute of Thaumaturgy, as I did.

    Magical spells are initiated by one-dimensional strings of syllables (Mantra) or musical tones; by two-dimensional diagrams of the annotated Pentagram variety and Magic Squares (See Abraham the Jew) and other Magical Diagrams as geometrical designs, representing the mysteries of deity and creation; or 3-dimensional structures such as iconic statues or voodoo-dolls; or 4-dimensional systems of limbs, hands, fingers, wands, dynamically changing over time.

  17. Dave H – I can see Canada from my house – Aging dad, electronics nerd, embedded software developer. (I'm the guy who makes your microwave blink 12:00.)
    Dave H

    “You, OTOH, look like a deranged undertaker.”

    I was thinking of an MIB agent who got his neuralizer backwards, but that works too.

    John, if you can still make her laugh then you can count on many, many years of blissful tolerance.

  18. What I find terribly amusing about this is the fact that almost identical pictures of my Substantially Better Half and I exist, though I’m not wearing a suit.

  19. Caption:

    “I do this because I love you, and don’t you ever forget that, because I’m keeping score and some day….”

  20. Is that Diffuse Glow? I love diffuse glow! It’s such a cheapskate way to make photos look better >.>

  21. My parents lied to me.
    They told me if I became a writer that I’d be poor and no one pretty would ever love me. So, I went into IT, got married to the Queen of the Damned and started working long, long hours. Now, I’m divorced and broke.
    You, on the other hand, Mr. Writer-Person, make a *nice* living and have a lovely wife!

    Damnit! I KNEW I was right!

  22. Oh boy.. she has her hands under the table holding her bat….. hehehe….we’re going to get to see a beating… OR
    go ahead touch my hair and you will not live to regreat it…
    Do i always have to be your straight man….
    Yes your daughter will see this and SHE will use the bat on you….
    Do you know where the rocket is going ….hhhmmmm

    Any of these says OUCH… poor Chrissy, can’t take him anywhere with out the correction coller on.

  23. Something that strikes me as amusing: 46 responses so far, and not one of them asked, “So, why were you doing that, anyway?”

    Not *one*!

    I guess everyone assumes they know the answer (something along the lines of “John was feeling goofy, and wanted to amuse himself or others”), but still. If it was almost anybody else doing it, the first question out of pretty much everybody’s mouth would be “Why?”

  24. #47: Why? What is this “why” you speak of?

  25. The Tolerant Wife nearest and dearest to me has a word, and two ways to say it.

    One is when we’re out somewhere and I’m waxing elegant. Not just waxing elegant but washing verbose and hand-detailing long-winded, in the middle of which I unintentionally come out with some double-entendre. She bats her lashes and unholsters The Voice: “Later.”

    This shot, lofted delicately into my rigging, causes my helm to blunder alee, my spars bang, my way devolves to a pathetic drift. And I shut up, which contents her.

    That’s one way.

    At other times, I cross some boundary, violate some taboo, perhaps proffer the very same cleverly risque bon mot (but intentionally). The nostrils flare a millimeter, the gunmetal-gray eyes level and fix me. I am given to know, with no words uttered, that my fate is sealed, but it will be delivered: “Later.”

    Not sure which one Krissy’s giving you here, John. But I dare to hope, looking at her, that you’re as lucky as I am.

  26. I finally got to see the picture last night (they’re blocked here at work). I met & got to sit next to Krissy at the ‘Zoe’s Tale’ reading here in Dayton. I knew she was a lovely, and loving woman. You could just see it in her eyes. But, DANG, she looks amazingly HAWT in this picture.

    You guys are sure lucky to have found each other. You obviously love each other very much. You also obviously *amuse* each other, and that lasts longer than the physical part of love. At least, according to Carl Reiner, who, when asked the secret to his long marriage, stated he makes his wife laugh.

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