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Monday, September 26, 2005

Under the Weather

I am just getting over a bad cold. I spent most of the weekend laying about the house, complaining how cold it was and sucking down what I am sure is over a gallon of orange juice. And in my fever enduced haze, I fell in love with my husband all over again.

It really was a bad string of days. I had gotten some upsetting news from my parents and was stressed out about it. The next morning my upper back was so tensed up with spasms I could barely move, and by the end of the day, I was sporting the oh so chic sweaty fever where your hair is matted to your face look.

The fever and cold got worse on Saturday and Peaked on Sunday. My husband had an eye doctor appointment on Saturday morning and didn't roll back in the door until seven hours later due to a flat tire and an unwillingness to call AAA. It didn't really matter anyway since I was pretty much in a Nyquil coma for most of the day.

The picture wasn't pretty folks. I didn't take a shower from Friday morning until Sunday night...and whatever you are imagining was ten times worse. I was not at my best. But he was. He was a trooper. He let me sleep on him, and got me whatever absurd mixture of juice I asked for. He went out for ice cream, and when Football came on....well alright, when football came on I am pretty sure he timed the medicine so I would be asleep for most of the game...but he was sweet.

And throught the Robitussin and Zinc and constant napping, I felt better just because he was there. Just having him near me. And I thought, that's real marraige. It isn't the moments that you smile for the camera and put in a photoalbum, although those are great. It isn't the birthdays and celebrations. It's the all the moments between the ones in a photo album. It's when he walks in the door after work and hugs me, or the mornings I coax him out of bed. It is when he reminds me to put my seat belt on, or when we laugh at our neighbors. Marraige is being at your best so you can help your wife when she is at her worst. And while it would be nice to have every moment be right out of "When Harry Met Sally", I'll take reality any day. Because it is the moments when he puts his cheek on my sweat soaked forehead to confirm my fever (even though he doesn't believe I have one) that I cherish more than anything.

He is my greatest blessing and I am the luckiest wife in the world.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Eyesight is Priceless

We have not been to the eye doctor in over two years. Yes. We are those people who don't go to the doctor/dentist/opthomologist until we are missing a limb/a tooth falls out/are blind with pinkeye.

My husband currently has a mild case of pink eye. This is the thrid time in about a month. The doctor might think this is linked to something wrong in his tear duct...if we had consulted a doctor. We have not. We don't put alot of stock into medical training. "them thar doc-tars don't be knowin' ever'thing." No one knows your body better than yourself, so we diagnosed the problem together. Turns out that he has been wearing the same pair of monthly contact lenses for over 4 months now. So that's probably it...right? We should have been doctors...

So my husband put his foot down last night and told me he is making eye doctor appointments for both of us. (I am equally overdue for an appointment and am running out of daily contacts). One might think that the pink eye finally got to him. One would be wrong. Turns out he couldn't see clearly out of one of the contacts during his soccer game Sunday night. So off to the doctor we go...I mean pink eye is one thing, but not being able to move the ball up the field is something he just isn't able to live with.

Did you know that advance appointments are recommended? There are apparently people all over this great country of ours who make appointments for their next exam while at the exam immediately preceeding it. Republicans. The doctor couldn't get us in for checkups for another two and a half weeks. This is too long for my husband as there are two soccer games scheduled between then and now (not to mention the pink eye has swollen his left eyelid closed). So he pled with the woman, who told him she would check and call back.

In the interim, he called me at work to give me the scoop on the developments. While on the phone with me, his cell phone rings. He tells me to hold on while he answers it-it's the doctor. I listen while he talks to the doctor's office on the other phone:

"Yes, Hello"


"Oh, alright, we'll take it"


"ummm, well, we'll have to fight it out, but one of us will be there"


"Ok, thank you"

Then he hangs up and comes back to the phone I am on. They have one opening for later this week.

I ask him why does he even pretend with the doctor's office that there is a possibility that I would take the appointment? He has no answer, but weakly offers the appointment to me. As if. I don't play soccer, so I can wait.

Friday, September 16, 2005

What Model Did you Buy?

The article in the photo above was on the home page of today. Of course I can't find it, but just yesterday they had the same article invloving cars: "Did you buy safe...or sexy?"
I married the Volvo C70 of men: Impressive design and high safety rank. Please ladies...didn't you read consumer reports before saying "yes"?

If we learn nothing else from the good people at Volvo, let it be that 'sexy' and 'saftey' are not mutually exclusive terms.

Seriously though. Who thinks in these terms? What wife is sitting out there thinking "yeah, I married sexy...he's likely to leave me in a week, and clean out our bank account, but damn! He is fine!"? Or alternatively, what ringed woman is thinking to herself "Terrorists, man might not be much to look at, but he is saftey central. His fugly face could scare away danger itself."? That is the dumbest question I have ever heard. What the hell is the matter with MSN? I am switching to yahoo.

On a Scale of 1 to 10

I am feeling really down today because I spent the morning nagging and complaining to my husband. Some might say "bitching" is the correct word. About what? It would be easier to name things I am not bitching about to him. So I am torn between being sorry about bitching and being genuinely pissed off because he caused all these problems (albeit unwittingly).

First, the aforementioned "fringe festival" is tonight. We decided to go after getting in a big fight about it. I think it is too raunchy and they talk about sexual things in public which I have no sense of humor about (I am a good Catholic after all, and we like to keep our sexual deviances covered up for at least 18 years or until the statute of limitations is over). My husband wants to go because it is a night out in the city with our friends (I will get back to the status of these so-called 'friends') and truth be told, although he has never said anything, I think as much as he loves the new house and married suburban life, he still misses the single city life. He is like the male version of Carrie Bradshaw on occassion.

Now, despite the fact that the fringe is not my scene, I acquieced to my new husband because I am an idiot...I mean...because I love him. Besides, the fight mostly revolved around my not wanting to see a particular show...the aforementioned Spank Monkey Show pictured in a previous post. So the battle of wills ended with the understanding that I did not want to see anything vulgar, and the determination that because I was not into it, he would make the plans with the other two couples we were going with. I think my exact words were "do whatever you want, I just don't want to see anyone spanking their monkey, just try and pick something a little less deviant." (I know what you are thinking, my husband is a crazed HOOTERS loving sexual deviant, but I am telling you the kid is like milque-toast)

So tonight I am seeing the spank monkey show. Is it me? Was I not clear enough?

The thing is, I am not surprised at this. No, my husband was not callous to my feelings. He wasn't being an insensitive jerk, quite the opposite. He was trying to be nice. Here is how it all went down:

Couple #1 fancies themselves hip and cool and alternative. Fringe was their idea, a kind of "look how cool we are". Wife #1 is difficult to deal with to say the least. She is blunt (which is code for rude) and she is rarely sensitive to others feelings and/or wants. She is the woman who tells you everything you are doing wrong with your kid and explains to you why her way is the best way. I think everyone knows a wife #1.

Couple #2 is normal. I mean, as normal as any of us are. I am sure I could think of something weird about them...but I digress. Anyway, Couple #2 can't stand wife #1. There is a history wherein wife #1 has made some very insensitive and downright mean comments to wife #2. So the tension is sometimes palpable between them, and makes me awkward. But again, I digress...

So Wife #1 calls and invites everyone to Fringe, and says what shows she wants to see. Couple #2 bag the spank monkey show and say they don't want to see it, but will meet up with everyone after for a second show. There was talk of trying to pick another show, but wife #1 was being difficult so in the end, couple #2 didn't want to deal with it so they just canned the first show altogether.

Enter us. This is the order of happenings: We get into our huge fight, call couple #2 and find out they bagged out entirely on the first show because of wife #1 being difficult, fight some more, then I acquiece and leave my husband to deal with the plans.

My husband then apparently calls wife #1 and tells her we don't want to see the spank monkey show. She tells us to try and pick another show (which we know is just a pretense, because she won't agree to anything we want anyway). My husband calls back the next day and speaks to Husband #1 who trys to talk him into the spank monkey show which we have already said we didn't want to see. My husband, who is nice to a fault and is always willing to avoid controversy and accomodate wherever he can, says "Listen, we're in for the 8 pm show, we prefere one of these two shows (naming two less offensive shows) but if you really want to see spank monkey..."

And that is why on a scale of 1-10, I am at a 10 in anger with these people. Normal, nice people would have simply chosen another show. Not these two...wife #1 is so god damn selfish that if you give her any room, she will always try for what she wants no matter at whose expense it comes. Now, not only do I not want to see the freakin show, I will be pissed off immeasurably that I even have to be around wife #1. (I am starting to see wife #2's position a little more clearly).

My husband knows that this hasn't worked out in my best interests. He is aware that his accomodation of others sometimes comes at my expense, and he feels bad about it. But God help him, it is just who he is and he can't fight it. So he made reservations at a new Mexican place that opened in the city (very swank) and is taking me before we meet up with everyone. Just the two of us. Slick of him...very slick...But a bribe nonetheless. You can dress a whore up, but she'll still sweat in church. (I don't really know what I mean by that?)

Which leads me to this morning. The entire Fringe thing had just gone down last night, I was feeling extremely sick for some reason, and now a weird sound in the car was back after just picking it up (FOR THE THIRD TIME) from the mechanic. I just lost it and started in on him. So here I am bitching at him non stop for about 5 minutes as we drive to work and I stopped for a second to look at him.

That kid had the most pathetic look on his face. And I stopped bitching because really, all he wanted was a fun night out in the city with his friends, a nice dinner with his new wife, and to get to work on time this morning.

I am sorry Chick. I love you more today than I did yesterday, and not as much as I will love you tomorrow. Sorry...I'm just CRANKY...I'll be good tonight, I promise.

*and this is exactly the train of thought every person who has ever been mad at my husband has had. He is like Bill Clinton, too nice to stay mad at...therein lies the maddening dilemma.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

We all could use a little Hooters

We have never been your average couple in alot of ways. In other ways, we are drving down the main street of life, in a Volvo, on the straight and narrow. And I think most people are like that. Everyone has their quirks while every marraige has universal stereotypes.

What is unbearable, incidentally, are people who pride themselves on being different from the norm, but are only different for the sake of being different. These people are know the people...they don't like Maroon 5 ever since they went so commercial. My husband has this ex-girlfriend who I'll call Erika Badu (no offense to Erika) and she was the "I don't even own a tv, I just don't think there is anything of social value in it, I have much more lofty things to do with my time" girl. I have two thoughts about this girl. First, how could my husband have dated this woman, and then dated me? I am the "I love TV, and I would watch MTV all day every day, mostly just to see Britney Spears and what she's been up to" girl. Second thought is this: You like tv. You know you do, and I know you do, and...I know you know that I know you do. So put down your book of Maya Angelou poetry and come watch Battle of the Network Reality Stars for the love of God. But I digress...

Back on topic. So my husband and I are pretty normal most of the time. But sometimes this kid goes all wacky and against the grain of your typical husband/wife dynamic. Before we got married, friends assured me that the wife makes all social plans. After all, women are good at making plans, they will call you on Monday to invite you to do something on Saturday night. They call back on Tuesday to find out your answer, Wednesday they talk about the options for what to do, Thursday they make reservations, Friday they confirm, and Saturday you have yourself a nice night out. I can't be sure, but it seems that men don't make plans so much as bump into each other at regular hangouts.

Anyway, I was dubious about this as my husband often made plans for us before we got married. But after we got married, I did sense a shift, and it appeared that he was fine, nay, glad that I was making plans for us. It was going swimmingly...until....


That's right, my husband's friend from law school (alright, I was friends with him too, but c'mon!) was having a surprise 30th birthday at HOOTERS. You know HOOTERS, the fine establishment where men claim they have the best wings? If by wings you mean waitresses in skimpy outfits with big boobs. That's the one. Now, I have previously posted about my prudishness so I will not bore you, but I think we can agree that I was not excited to attend the party. Unfortunately, my husband made these plans. The kid picked this party as his first foray into making plans for the newlyweds, and decided he wanted to go. But here is the real kick in the ass - the guy's wife called me at work and asked me if we were coming. Apparently despite making the plans we still have a problem on the follow through...clearly he can't be expected to actually remember to RSVP right? So I get the call at work. (NOTE: If you want a guaranteed 'yes' out of either myself or my husband, put us on the spot while we are at work.) So I said yes.

Then I promptly bitched to my husband for the remainder of the week about having to go to HOOTERS.

So on Saturday night, we got all shined up for a night on the town. And I have to say, I was not making it easy on my husband, I was being particularly cranky about the whole thing...that is until....I tried the onion rings. SWEET JESUS, Hooters has the best onion rings I have ever tasted. Seriously. They were delicious. How could I not have known? So I did what any other newly married, yet independent woman would do.

I marched right up to the hostess and asked if they had takeout. Then I bought a t-shirt.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Weekend O' Cousins

I am going to admit up front that I love Cousin's Weekend. What is cousin's weekend you may ask? Well let me tell you...every labor day weekend all of my husband's cousins and their significant others and children get together at a beautiful shore house in Avalon owned by one of the cousins. And...drumroll please...compete in COUSIN OLYMPICS.

It would be impossible to fully describe cousin olympics and capture it's true vibe. Suffice it to say that it is a series of competitions (each couple must bring an event and a prize for the event)that everyone bitches and complains about, but secretly loves.
For example, we do Potato Sack Races:
And I don't know what this is called, but you run with a water balloon between you and your husband/fiance/boyfriend...
And in general there is alot of revelry. And while everyone publically complains about participating, once it gets rolling, MEMORIES ARE MADE!

While the Olympics are the main attraction of cousin's weekend, what really makes it is the motley crew that comprises the cousins. I couldn't describe all the personalities involved if I had endless time and space, but they contrast and compliment each other and their differences is what makes them hilarious. So hanging out with them all is kind of an adventure.

Plus...the babies! We love the babies! Now, we have quite a few of the next generation, and WE LOVE IT!!!!

Our Neice at the Beach! Cute as button!
Although, our fabulously hip cousins' baby gives the neice some serious competition...I would have more pictures of them both, but they were so cute we ate them about 5 minutes into the weekend!

Traditions are what make a family, a family. And I like the tradition of cousin's weekend olympics (just don't tell anyone).

Thursday, September 01, 2005


So the fact that my husband eventually remembered my birthday around noon, and as anticipated hastily pulled together a cake and got me an I-Pod (which I am not technologically advanced enough to I 30 or 65?) and in general was everything I married him for, seems to pale in importance to the situation in New Orleans.

I was watching the devastation of Katrina on the news. Words will not do it justice, to describe it for posterity is too difficult, and I am not nearly a good enough writer.

I saw a woman on the news who had lost her husband. She was my age, and she had lost him in the lawlessness that engulfed the city. She had watched him be beaten to death by a group of sick, criminal men. As she talked, I felt my heart break for her. I looked at my husband, sleeping beside me, arm draped over my stomach and face nuzzled to my side. He has been very sick for the past two days, and was finally in a peaceful sleep. I wanted to kiss him, hold him tight to me. But I didn't want to wake him. So I just watched him for a few minutes and said two prayers, one for the woman on the news so that she may find peace. And another in thanks to God for my blessings.

And then I slowly and quietly got up and went to the bathroom so my crying wouldn't wake him. Because even the thought of going thorugh what that woman is going through makes my heart break and panic set in. So I pray for everyone affected by the hurricane, I cry for all of them. Because there but for the grace of God, go I.