I was right. Undeniably, un-arguably, hands-down right. I don't exactly remember all the details on what I was right about, but I can tell you it had something to do with a Wal-Mart gift card that his parents gave me for my birthday, which he wanted to use for car accessories. And this was a big deal, because I do not get to be that right that often.

I imagine some background is necessary... My husband, Geoff (known as 'My King' on good days), is the calmest, most literal, black-and-white guy around. He does not freak out, he does not have cows, he does not go on rampages, nor does he become irrational or unmanageable. These are traits common to me, which (unfortunately) I am well practiced in.

And while I freely admit that it is I, who generally behaves badly and instigates most conflicts, there are times when my king can, and does, transform into an Ogre. This was one of them. And I was really excited about that, because it is not often that I get to freak out about something almost justifiable.

Geoff worked the swing shift back then, so I had plenty of time that morning to foster my hurt feelings, fall back on my old nature for counsel, become indignant, ponder the injustice of it all, and then launch a full-blown attack. Usually when Geoff sees me about to detonate, he is quick to calm the situation, but on this dark and tempestuous day (and to my surprise), he countered! Not only that...he refused to back down and even called me - the one clearly in the right  - 'selfish' and 'spoiled' and 'contentious.' ME!  I was shocked and flabbergasted. The man who rarely 'got into it' and who refused to be pulled into battle was practically loading the gun for me. What sport!

As he was walking out the door, I let him know it wasn't over, and to come home prepared for the onslaught I would have ready for him. He sighed, looked down squarely in my face, tilted his head and commented, "You know, Jen, you are really ugly when you're angry" and then shot out the door before I could find something dangerously heavy to throw. But that was fine by me - he just hurt my feelings even worse - simply translated: More Ammo.

It mattered little that my young daughters were all in earshot and taking mental notes to store in their 'How to Be a Wife' folder. Frightful! They do not stop learning when our homeschool is out for the day. This is when the 'real life' lessons are learned. Was I humbled at the thought? No...I was too busy drawing up battle plans.

The next several hours were dedicated to the impending war. Memories were drudged up, scenes were imagined and hurtful words were scripted. I was ready. I was good and mad and fully prepared to do some damage. My flesh was totally in control - so you can imagine how torn I was when my Heavenly Father-in-Law (who gave me his son, Geoff, whom I was trying to destroy) stepped in with a shocking "suggestion."

Now, I am not a 'subjective' person. I am skeptical of those with stories claiming that 'God called down from heaven and spoke to them directly'. But who else could have planted such an outrageous, unthinkable, irrational thought in my rebellious little head? It was put on my heart, gently and very clearly, "Bake that man a cake." It was not me who would have thought such a thought. It was heinously out of place.

"Forget it," I nearly said out loud, "I'm so sure! The one time I can finally triumph, the one time I can finally be right, You want me to deny myself the victory and just let it all go? He'll think he was right all along, and then he won't change. And even more-so... Do You seriously want me to reward such bad behavior by baking the Ogre a cake? Ogres don't deserve cake! They deserve...well, they deserve flies and toads, slimy sludge-filled bogs and other horrible things."  This seemed like a really good argument, and I was pretty proud about my quick thinking.  But then that inner voice came again, and it asked "And what do Hags deserve?"