Franktastic

Franktastic [Frank-ta-stick] n. My husband. Also a father, son, brother, friend. Fabulous, awesome, one-of-a-kind, unique, like no other, never to be duplicated, yummy, handsome, fantastic. 

Franktastic always starts with a No.

For example, I found a ‘table base’ at an estate sale a couple of years ago.

Seller Guy: You don’t even know that that is

Me: Yes, I do. It’s a table base!

Seller Guy: No, it’s not.

Me: If I buy it, it is.

Left him scratching his head. But I did take it home.

Franktastic: What is this?

Me: It’s a table base.

Franktastic: That’s NOT a table base.

Me: We’ll make it a table base.

Franktastic: We can’t.

Me: Sure we can. Just put a hook in the wall, tie a string to it, and let it fall forward. Then we put a top on it. Just need to measure the top.

Franktastic: No not like that, like this…

I’m always right that it can be done. Not usually right on how it is done, but my ideas get him thinking.

What exactly was it? It was an antique hay holder for horses. The kind typically screwed onto a wall in a barn. That is just one example, but we go through this over and over again.

Without Franktastic, there may not have been a Shirley’s Loft.

Frank builds everything I paint on. He builds wood boxes to my specifications, assembles the trickier pieces, and generally helps make my visions come to life. He’s detail oriented, measures every standoff, and makes sure each piece hangs perfectly level.

When I do a show, Franktastic goes to town building walls, running electrical, laying carpet and hanging my art. He helps me without giving his opinion, is patient when I explain what I need.

Sometimes he oversteps…

Franktastic was in the shop building boxes and decided to mix up a color. (Not something he ever does)

Me: No, No, no…that’s not what it is.

Franktastic: What?

Me: That’s not how it looks in my head…

And he went right back to what he had been doing,

Sometimes he tries to give input…

Franktastic: You should do this…

Me: I can’t. That’s not what it is.

My husband doesn’t get upset if I don’t take his suggestions. He doesn’t see it aesthetically; it all has to make sense to him mechanically. 

Franktastic is always there when I need him, helping when he can, but stepping back so that I’m free to do my thing. He somehow ‘gets’ my crazy and no matter what, he’s my number one fan. Always supportive, his belief in me has never wavered. When I have a moment of doubt, he insists that this is my calling.

He also says I have to be doing this, or else I’d constantly be remodeling our house. He's probably a little grateful that I've turned my attention to creating art--because he's been spared from another kitchen remodel. He understands that I have trouble staying in one lane.

I know how lucky I am. Every woman should have a “Frankie” in her corner. I’ve always called him Frankie, as have my closest girlfriends. One of my friends started calling him Franktastic not long ago, and it kinda stuck. There just aren’t enough adjectives to explain how ‘good’ this man is, through and through.