I'm married to an Okie!

My son and I get a kick out of this. We shouldn't but we always do.

I made a quick trip to Braum's tonight and once there I wondered if we had any salad dressing in the fridge. I called my husband on my handy li'l cell phone, "Do we have any ranch dressing?"
After a pause I heard him answer, "Uh huh . . . but some Franch would be nice."
There was quite a lot of background noise in the store. To double check, I asked, "What did you say?"
"I said, uh huh, but some Franch would be nice."
"Franch? Oh, okay. I'll get that at the grocery store tomorrow. Just so long as we have ranch."
A few minutes later, I climbed into the car where Ike was waiting for me, listening to his tunes. As I backed out for the drive home, I told him about the call. By the time we'd gotten to the left turn lane and were waiting for the traffic light, we were having great fun with it.
"I guess that if it comes from France it must be Franch." Gut wrenching laughter.
"We're ranchers here, so we think the Franchers are ranchers, too." Another bout of hilarity.
"We go to the restaurant and he wonders why he got ranch dressing instead of franch dressing." Aren't we just pitiful! Don't tell him we do this.

In other news: It is spring! The daffodils bloomed.