**So I totally wrote this eons ago, and never posted it! Sorry I'm so slow to post!**
When you get to be a certain age, there's something very comforting about unpacking in one place and having your hotel move to different locations rather than you doing the moving. There's something magical about having someone make your bed up for you in the morning, just to turn it down at night. And at any age, it's too good to be true when other people will not just cook for you, but serve you as much food as you can gorge on.
Last year I took a cruise with a bunch of women I didn't know and Kristin (see sidebar for blogs because I can't remember how to link things!). I survived the high seas, and told Hubby that rather than going to Disney World to have breakfast with Winnie the Pooh for my 30th birthday, we should take a cruise. The cruise was actually cheaper than Disney World (before the airfare to Puerto Rico and back), and we know we'll be taking a little one to Disney World for breakfast with Pooh soon enough. Hubby had never taken a cruise, and as last year was his first year seeing an ocean, this was a huge chance.
We thought about abandoning the cruise as we are hoping to have a little one come into the world and come home with us in a couple of weeks, but really, the chance to have one last blow out for the two of us, and one final kiss goodbye to the joyful days of my youth, was much more fun. So we left Thanksgiving Day for the big city to spend the night and catch the plane.
I've already droned on about the plane, so let's get to the airport in Puerto Rico. We landed after 10 pm their time (6 pm in Podunk) and discovered that the government must run the taxis in PR, as there is the tourism department that meets you at the airport and assigns the fare to you--no taxi meters. So we raced around Puerto Rico in the dark, noting everything listed in Spanish, and my trying to remember those many years suffering through Spanish class in high school. While they are a US territory, Spanish is primary, and most people spoke English, but there were a couple of times where someone translated for us to be sure we were going to get where we were supposed to get via the taxis. Anyway, we had a balcony view that we were not impressed with at midnight, and we fought to go to sleep.
The next morning, Hubby stepped out onto the balcony and discovered that we were with a block of pristine white beach and beautiful Atlantic Ocean, so we raced out to hit the beach. I, of course, didn't think we'd be out there that long--we were burned in no time. Go figure. So then we hit the ship.
The ship we were on was 13 decks, and held about 2300 travelers, plus I believe a crew of 900. We were assigned to the early seating, and our table mates were a fun couple from B.C., Canada celebrating their honeymoon, and another nice couple from Israel celebrating 25 years of marriage. We had 5 stops back to back and then a day at sea. Our first stop was St. Thomas, where we overslept that morning (thanks to the time difference!), but were fortunate enough to have the tourism department dude guide us to a lovely beach. We spent the day in the water and just loving the sand! St. Thomas was beautiful--definitely some place we'd like to go back, and would recommend.
The next day was St. Martin, and my celebration of another decade completed on the Earth. It was a traumatic day for several reasons. As you may have noticed, I was not excited about turning 30. I really had a ton of plans of things to accomplish in life before I turned THAT old, and I didn't do one doggone thing. So as we prepared to hit the streets of St. Martin, I was putting on makeup and checking for new wrinkles, when I found THEM. Nope, not new wrinkles--apparently gravity was being nice to my face that morning--but rather two very obvious, long, waving in the wind, white hairs right along my part. Are you kidding me? Was there not another day that these could have been found? So the day started off on a very sad note.
Immediately after taking the water taxi downtown, we were attacked by very pushy sales people for some resort community. Hubby and I have attended many speeches, and no, we don't have a time share any where, but I think we were so sleep deprived and sunned (not to mentioned stunned by the white hair!) that we didn't know what was happening, and we went...of course, the $250 offer for simply listening to the talk was promising, and the ones we've attended in the past actually did pay up what was promised. So we wasted a couple of hours walking around a timeshare and politely assured the salespeople that the place was lovely, and while we make an obscene amount of money, we spend an even more obscene amount, and couldn't afford it. They handed us a voucher for $250 towards jewelry that wasn't that nice and was WAY overpriced (as in, the cheapest thing there was like $600 so they'd make their money back because the piece was worth maybe $100). We did our mandatory souvenir shopping, and just went back to the boat.
The next day brought us to Antigua. We decided that rather than deal with pushy people, we'd just catch a taxi to a beach again. However, no taxi driver would take us without "a tour of the island" and the tourism lady chewed our rears for not wanting a tour because "everybody thinks only about the beaches and there is much more to the island." So we agreed to pay sixty bucks and take "a tour" of the island with a couple hours on the beach. The taxi driver was a very angry woman, and she was screaming into her cell phone as she led us and another nice couple from Canada to her taxi. She continued to bark things into her cell phone, and despite her heavy accent, we're not totally dumb, and could hear statements like "will this get me what I need? How much do you need? I'll give you $600--will that get it to me? Where should I meet you?" and then we pulled over in what was not the wealthiest part of Antigua and watched her hand a wad of cash to a male who pulled up in a dark SUV with tinted windows and she again asked if that would get her what she needed. We raced off to a beach and once we were on secure land, the Canadians and Hubby and I looked at each other and agreed that in our countries, this would have been considered a drug deal. That night we attended a mystery dinner on the ship, and were telling our dinner companions about the experience, and were assured by one that he had been offered drugs as soon as he was off the ship, and decided Antigua was not the place for him to go wandering. So, while Antigua was beautiful (once we got out of the "slums" from her arrangement with the man), we are a little jaded.
That experience lead us to agree that while we wanted to not spend oodles of money, and had therefore avoided the excursions through the ship, we needed something for St. Lucia. We booked a historical tour of St. Lucia, and the morning we docked there, St. Lucia instantly felt welcoming, warm, and friendly. We took the tour, and saw most of the island, as well got to attend a silk screening factory. I would totally go back to St. Lucia in a heart beat.
Our last stop was Barbados, and we booked a swim with sea turtles, snorkeling, and beach trip. Barbados was incredibly beautiful. We'd never been snorkeling before, and I ended up with nosefuls of salt water despite the mask, and the feeling that I was going to drown--weird, because I've been in oceans before, and I can swim, so I don't know what my problem was--so I only swam with the turtles for like 10 minutes. Hubby loved it. He swam with the turtles, he touched the turtles, he went to the "ship wreck" (barges that had sunk) and the reef...I think Hubby would have stayed forever if possible. It was very cool. We ended with a stay on the beach right next to the resort that Tiger Woods rented out to get married...and if I had Tiger Woods' money, I would so be there all the time.
We had a day at sea, and then returned to Puerto Rico. We planned to tour old San Juan and to see the forts, and to really make the most out of our time in Puerto Rico. Of course, I woke up sick that morning, and stumbled to breakfast so that I could say goodbye to the couple from B.C., Canada. They had made dinners such fun! I met up with them and a nice couple from New Jersey that were seated with Hubby, and the nice lady from New Jersey asked me when the baby was due. Now, keep in mind I'm sick, so the first thing I think about is that Hubby told them that we were waiting for the birth of our daughter the end of December. I had no idea why he would have told complete strangers about the adoption, but hey--we're excited, and we were on vacation. Nope, it turns out that because I'm FAT, and Hubby told the others I was having a slow morning because I wasn't feeling well, she assumed I'm pregnant. She recovered quickly, and I was so sick that I didn't even catch on to this until after we were off the ship and at the hotel. So instead of touring San Juan, we spent our last day of vacation with me wishing to die on a couch and then a bed at the hotel.
While we most likely will not cruise with this cruise line again (lots of hidden charges, not as inclusive as we'd been led to believe, and surprisingly, the food was no where near what I thought it should be--it didn't come close to the other cruise line for last year's cruise), we will definitely be cruising again in our future. For one thing, I'm getting too old to not be cruising :) For another, I like being catered to and to having a new port of adventure just around the corner. Of course, with a new baby, the next time I'm cruising will be for my 50th birthday...and I'm sure I'll then be looking for brown hair to surprise me.
Showing posts with label Hubby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hubby. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
I am WOMAN
Hear me roar.
This weekend Hubby was out of town helping his sister pack to move. I was a free woman to take a bubble bath, lounge around, bake up a storm for a bake sale, read some novels, and watch a few movies. Around work, of course.
So instead I decided to become an adult. A situation presented itself, and it was time to see if I was going to remain a little girl or become a WOMAN. It was something that would separate the child from the grown up.
It was a dead mouse.
I cannot believe that it is 65 or so degrees and November. I stupidly assumed it was too warm for us to have mice, and so I let Hubby leave the state. Remember how I am with Mickey? If I had any idea, I probably would have forbid him to leave. Instead, I decided to be unselfish and to ship him to Colorado to be with his family. You know, the one that hates me? It was kismet, as there was a lesson to be learned.
I walked in the front door, and froze. There it lay, between the loveseat and couch, blocking the doorway to the kitchen, with the kitten's paw poised above it. I had my arms full, and rather than dropping everything and leaping onto the couch or armchair, I calmly (okay, so I was shaking and goosebumps were up and tears began to fill my eyes in fear) put down my stuff, and told the cat "NO!" and considered my options. I could spend the weekend going outside the front door and around the backyard to get in the back door to the kitchen/dining room every time I wanted something. I could call Hubby and demand he steal a car from his family and race down to Podunk (a 6 hour drive) and rescue me. I could cry and call my mommy. I could demand my father save me. Or I could face up to my responsibilities. I stepped over the body.
The little eye that was facing me stared up. I did not feel for breath or a pulse--I'm not about to be THAT grown up and adult. I simply backed away from him/her/it and into the kitchen. There was no way I was going to touch the thing, so I had formulated a plan that involved gathering a bunch of plastic groceries bags and that would be squishy enough that I wouldn't know if it was the body or the bags. I returned to the scene of the murder and I put the bunched up bags over the body. I then took the plunge and grabbed quickly, making the mistake of turning it upright as I raised the body and bags towards me to put it in another bag (hey, field mice have deadly diseases around here...one couldn't have too many bags!). The little body was still warm enough that his/her/its body folded. Gross, but I have to explain how close I was to squealing and dropping the doggone thing.
Worse still was it's little body folded and the eye moved, so I was suddenly convinced it was still alive. How I would have dealt with that, I don't know. That's apparently another lesson for another day. So I put the mouse in the other bag, double tied it and raced down the front steps to the garbage can.
I still pass over the scene of the crime every time I walk into the kitchen and imagine that little body. It's not a morbid or gross thing (thank God the cats don't ever eat the mice, they just leave them as they were when they passed on). The big cat climbed into my lap promptly after the short trip to the garbage can with the body bag, and meowed at me softly. My response? A loud ROAR back and a "thank you, fat cat." I passed the test.
Who knew it took a dead mouse to make me a woman?
This weekend Hubby was out of town helping his sister pack to move. I was a free woman to take a bubble bath, lounge around, bake up a storm for a bake sale, read some novels, and watch a few movies. Around work, of course.
So instead I decided to become an adult. A situation presented itself, and it was time to see if I was going to remain a little girl or become a WOMAN. It was something that would separate the child from the grown up.
It was a dead mouse.
I cannot believe that it is 65 or so degrees and November. I stupidly assumed it was too warm for us to have mice, and so I let Hubby leave the state. Remember how I am with Mickey? If I had any idea, I probably would have forbid him to leave. Instead, I decided to be unselfish and to ship him to Colorado to be with his family. You know, the one that hates me? It was kismet, as there was a lesson to be learned.
I walked in the front door, and froze. There it lay, between the loveseat and couch, blocking the doorway to the kitchen, with the kitten's paw poised above it. I had my arms full, and rather than dropping everything and leaping onto the couch or armchair, I calmly (okay, so I was shaking and goosebumps were up and tears began to fill my eyes in fear) put down my stuff, and told the cat "NO!" and considered my options. I could spend the weekend going outside the front door and around the backyard to get in the back door to the kitchen/dining room every time I wanted something. I could call Hubby and demand he steal a car from his family and race down to Podunk (a 6 hour drive) and rescue me. I could cry and call my mommy. I could demand my father save me. Or I could face up to my responsibilities. I stepped over the body.
The little eye that was facing me stared up. I did not feel for breath or a pulse--I'm not about to be THAT grown up and adult. I simply backed away from him/her/it and into the kitchen. There was no way I was going to touch the thing, so I had formulated a plan that involved gathering a bunch of plastic groceries bags and that would be squishy enough that I wouldn't know if it was the body or the bags. I returned to the scene of the murder and I put the bunched up bags over the body. I then took the plunge and grabbed quickly, making the mistake of turning it upright as I raised the body and bags towards me to put it in another bag (hey, field mice have deadly diseases around here...one couldn't have too many bags!). The little body was still warm enough that his/her/its body folded. Gross, but I have to explain how close I was to squealing and dropping the doggone thing.
Worse still was it's little body folded and the eye moved, so I was suddenly convinced it was still alive. How I would have dealt with that, I don't know. That's apparently another lesson for another day. So I put the mouse in the other bag, double tied it and raced down the front steps to the garbage can.
I still pass over the scene of the crime every time I walk into the kitchen and imagine that little body. It's not a morbid or gross thing (thank God the cats don't ever eat the mice, they just leave them as they were when they passed on). The big cat climbed into my lap promptly after the short trip to the garbage can with the body bag, and meowed at me softly. My response? A loud ROAR back and a "thank you, fat cat." I passed the test.
Who knew it took a dead mouse to make me a woman?
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Time Flies
Remember being a kid and waiting FOREVER for Christmas or for a birthday? It felt like time was so slow. I remember as a child being told that as I got older, time would speed up. It has. The Christmas decorations are out in the stores, and I swear that summer just ended.
I had no idea it had been over a month since my last post. Things have just slid on by, leaving me as more of a spectator rather than a participant in life.
We took a trip to Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago. We'd been planning for years to celebrate the youngest of our sorority chapter turning the nasty 3-0. Another sister and I are the babies, and so conveniently, we split the difference between our birthdays, and headed out to Vegas with four other ladies. We stayed at the Palazzo, which was wonderful. We had two rooms, with three of us in each room, so we each had our own bed. One of the girls and I flew out a day later than the others, and so we were a day behind on our shopping. We had the required breakfast at Le Village Buffet at Paris. We trekked out to Zappos...where I did not buy one pair of shoes. What's wrong with me? Two of the ladies and I went to a lingerie specialty shop and the other ladies went to a Coach outlet--good thing they left me behind! We had great meals. We did hardly any gambling...I won $0.05! Whoo hoo! We mainly just shopped and shopped and shopped some more. I came home with some new stuff. Hubby sent a dozen long stemmed red roses to my room, so I gather he missed me just fine :) I got a pedicure complete with a "marshmallow mask" that felt like heaven after all the walking we did. And then it was time to come home.
Hubby and I are in the process of adopting a baby that is due in January. I'm trying not to say too much so as not to jinx it. I do go on more on my other blog about it. However, because time is slipping by, we've just realized that we have like eight weeks to get ready for the baby...or at least to gather the necessities, like bottles and diapers and clothing and car seat to bring the baby home. So we've finally broken down and started checking out the very limited baby places. Good news is that we've had many trips to Albuquerque, so we've started to get an idea of stuff. Hubby summed it all up when a salesclerk at one place asked if she could help with anything, and Hubby asked "have anything for sticker shock?" It's totally possible to get too carried away. Fortunately, Hubby and I have great friends, and there are many willing to loan/gift/etc things to us, as well as to let us pick their brains. There's something to be said about being some of the last in the group to have children :)
Work has been plodding along. I have received a promotion which equated to more duties, more pissed off people, more headache, and no more pay or days off. However, I am learning a lot about myself as a supervisor and I have been interested to watch how relationships change based on rank. I'm about to be transferred off the weekend graveyard shift to a weekday shift...the shift that stressed me almost to the point of quitting in May. The good news is that I'll have weekends off and can go back to church. We'll also do some more travelling, and then I'll take six weeks off for the baby, so with all the good stuff coming, it won't be so hard to get through this other shift.
The serious drama will happen in December, when I hit the big 3-0. Hubby is helping me ease into it by taking me on a cruise for seven nights in the southern and eastern Caribbean. We actually have two full days in San Juan, Puerto Rico too. It will hopefully be our last childless trip, and if I have to give up my youth at some point, I'm thrilled to be doing it on an island. Far away from everything else. The trip is helping me almost forget what terrible things will surely come when I'm old. I'm sure I'll need a walker to get off the plane home.
So that's about all. Looking at it here, it doesn't seem like all that much has happened. Having lived through the past four weeks or so, it seems like a whole lifetime of things has happened. If things are this fast paced at 29, what happens at 30?
I had no idea it had been over a month since my last post. Things have just slid on by, leaving me as more of a spectator rather than a participant in life.
We took a trip to Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago. We'd been planning for years to celebrate the youngest of our sorority chapter turning the nasty 3-0. Another sister and I are the babies, and so conveniently, we split the difference between our birthdays, and headed out to Vegas with four other ladies. We stayed at the Palazzo, which was wonderful. We had two rooms, with three of us in each room, so we each had our own bed. One of the girls and I flew out a day later than the others, and so we were a day behind on our shopping. We had the required breakfast at Le Village Buffet at Paris. We trekked out to Zappos...where I did not buy one pair of shoes. What's wrong with me? Two of the ladies and I went to a lingerie specialty shop and the other ladies went to a Coach outlet--good thing they left me behind! We had great meals. We did hardly any gambling...I won $0.05! Whoo hoo! We mainly just shopped and shopped and shopped some more. I came home with some new stuff. Hubby sent a dozen long stemmed red roses to my room, so I gather he missed me just fine :) I got a pedicure complete with a "marshmallow mask" that felt like heaven after all the walking we did. And then it was time to come home.
Hubby and I are in the process of adopting a baby that is due in January. I'm trying not to say too much so as not to jinx it. I do go on more on my other blog about it. However, because time is slipping by, we've just realized that we have like eight weeks to get ready for the baby...or at least to gather the necessities, like bottles and diapers and clothing and car seat to bring the baby home. So we've finally broken down and started checking out the very limited baby places. Good news is that we've had many trips to Albuquerque, so we've started to get an idea of stuff. Hubby summed it all up when a salesclerk at one place asked if she could help with anything, and Hubby asked "have anything for sticker shock?" It's totally possible to get too carried away. Fortunately, Hubby and I have great friends, and there are many willing to loan/gift/etc things to us, as well as to let us pick their brains. There's something to be said about being some of the last in the group to have children :)
Work has been plodding along. I have received a promotion which equated to more duties, more pissed off people, more headache, and no more pay or days off. However, I am learning a lot about myself as a supervisor and I have been interested to watch how relationships change based on rank. I'm about to be transferred off the weekend graveyard shift to a weekday shift...the shift that stressed me almost to the point of quitting in May. The good news is that I'll have weekends off and can go back to church. We'll also do some more travelling, and then I'll take six weeks off for the baby, so with all the good stuff coming, it won't be so hard to get through this other shift.
The serious drama will happen in December, when I hit the big 3-0. Hubby is helping me ease into it by taking me on a cruise for seven nights in the southern and eastern Caribbean. We actually have two full days in San Juan, Puerto Rico too. It will hopefully be our last childless trip, and if I have to give up my youth at some point, I'm thrilled to be doing it on an island. Far away from everything else. The trip is helping me almost forget what terrible things will surely come when I'm old. I'm sure I'll need a walker to get off the plane home.
So that's about all. Looking at it here, it doesn't seem like all that much has happened. Having lived through the past four weeks or so, it seems like a whole lifetime of things has happened. If things are this fast paced at 29, what happens at 30?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
An Open Love Letter
Dear Hubby,
Holy crap! Eight long years have passed. It's been a remarkably hard, long, amazing, fun, laughter-filled, anxious, tearful, annoying, precious ride. And we've only just begun. Are you ready for the next eight? How about the eight after that, and after that...
I don't think either of us was prepared for what it meant to be married. We've made some mistakes, and we've each had to eat crow. We've loved hard and cried even harder. You've picked me up, dressed me, carried me, encouraged me, held me and loved me. You've suffered through my hormonal swings, my uncertainty and my constantly changing decorating ideas :) You've continued to become a man of God, and to persist in letting Him change and mold you into the man and the husband He's calling you to be.
I am so proud of you and of the decisions you are making. I pray that I can be the wife that He calls you to have for the next 88 years, starting right now, the first day of our ninth year of marriage. Lots of changes are coming our way, and I know that with Christ at the center, we will continue to succeed. He has great plans for us, and I can hardly wait!
Love, me
Holy crap! Eight long years have passed. It's been a remarkably hard, long, amazing, fun, laughter-filled, anxious, tearful, annoying, precious ride. And we've only just begun. Are you ready for the next eight? How about the eight after that, and after that...
I don't think either of us was prepared for what it meant to be married. We've made some mistakes, and we've each had to eat crow. We've loved hard and cried even harder. You've picked me up, dressed me, carried me, encouraged me, held me and loved me. You've suffered through my hormonal swings, my uncertainty and my constantly changing decorating ideas :) You've continued to become a man of God, and to persist in letting Him change and mold you into the man and the husband He's calling you to be.
I am so proud of you and of the decisions you are making. I pray that I can be the wife that He calls you to have for the next 88 years, starting right now, the first day of our ninth year of marriage. Lots of changes are coming our way, and I know that with Christ at the center, we will continue to succeed. He has great plans for us, and I can hardly wait!
Love, me
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Traveling Tethered to Another Man
It's very rare that I see a man and a woman eating a meal together that I don't assume that they are together as a couple in love. Put that man and that woman at a hotel together, and it's rare that I don't assume there's more than meets the eye. Replace that man with one missing his chica because he's homesick and miles away man, and replace the woman with me, and I am disgusted that people automatically think this way. Ironic, I know. From now on, I will try to assume that a man and a woman eating together may just be making the best out of an awkward situation.
I knew the minute the department told me that we would be traveling together that I was about to become a huge burden. I'm bitchy, perpetually tired, stressed out and, oh yeah, a female. Put me in a car for hours, stick me in a town smaller than Podunk, and tell me that I'm the only non-cop at a training where I have to be on my best behavior and remember I represent a whole stinking department, and I'm a double dose of whiny. Add to it that law enforcement is a pretty tight community and that when a cop can get away and hang out with other cops from other places, no cop wants to be linked to any non-cop that's not their family...especially when the non-cop doesn't drink. Who wouldn't want to put me in their unit and run away with me?
I seriously worried about this, and tried everything short of giving up the class (which I really needed to advance my career), and everything fell on deaf ears. Officer told me not to worry about it, and swore that it wouldn't be any big deal to be tethered to me for 16 hours out of a day. We've worked together for about two years, and we're friendly enough that I bitch and moan at him when we're on shift together. It couldn't be too awkward to travel with a man that was not Hubby, right? No big deal. So off we went.
Officer retrieved me from my parents' house (it was Mom's birthday) and as Hubby walked me out, one of the Parental Unit made a comment about flashing back to seeing me off on a date...that set the mood :) Officer didn't say anything about it, and we were off Sunday night, into a week of assumptions from other people.
We went everywhere together. He had to go to Walmart, so we went to the nearest town together. We attended class together, sat by each other, ate every meal together...there was nowhere close to the hotel, and we had to drive to another town to find food. I learned a lot about him thanks to the time we were together. I would wager he learned more about me than he ever wanted to know. It's weird to travel with a co-worker to begin with. Make that co-worker a member of the opposite sex, and somehow things just feel odd.
It's double weird because I spend more time with officers than I do with Hubby just due to my work schedule v. Hubby's work schedule. I think that's why officers form bonds with other officers, firefighters with other firefighters, etc. We have to become a family for the trust issues. We choose to become family because of the time we are together. We must make up the largest dysfunctional family ever, but we are a family. And the week with Officer--although awkward and odd at times--will have helped me build a bigger foundation of trust with Officer. I've totally got his back any time.
I think Officer was relieved to have Hubby meet us in Santa Fe to unload me. Lucky for Officer, he has to work with me tomorrow night for a 12-hour shift...and then he'll get a whole week before he has to see me again. Lucky for me, I have Hubby who will gladly resume the duties of listening to me bitch and moan, rant and rave. And while Officer had to fill the role of listener because he had to be tethered to me, Hubby does it because he loves me. That's pretty sweet.
I knew the minute the department told me that we would be traveling together that I was about to become a huge burden. I'm bitchy, perpetually tired, stressed out and, oh yeah, a female. Put me in a car for hours, stick me in a town smaller than Podunk, and tell me that I'm the only non-cop at a training where I have to be on my best behavior and remember I represent a whole stinking department, and I'm a double dose of whiny. Add to it that law enforcement is a pretty tight community and that when a cop can get away and hang out with other cops from other places, no cop wants to be linked to any non-cop that's not their family...especially when the non-cop doesn't drink. Who wouldn't want to put me in their unit and run away with me?
I seriously worried about this, and tried everything short of giving up the class (which I really needed to advance my career), and everything fell on deaf ears. Officer told me not to worry about it, and swore that it wouldn't be any big deal to be tethered to me for 16 hours out of a day. We've worked together for about two years, and we're friendly enough that I bitch and moan at him when we're on shift together. It couldn't be too awkward to travel with a man that was not Hubby, right? No big deal. So off we went.
Officer retrieved me from my parents' house (it was Mom's birthday) and as Hubby walked me out, one of the Parental Unit made a comment about flashing back to seeing me off on a date...that set the mood :) Officer didn't say anything about it, and we were off Sunday night, into a week of assumptions from other people.
We went everywhere together. He had to go to Walmart, so we went to the nearest town together. We attended class together, sat by each other, ate every meal together...there was nowhere close to the hotel, and we had to drive to another town to find food. I learned a lot about him thanks to the time we were together. I would wager he learned more about me than he ever wanted to know. It's weird to travel with a co-worker to begin with. Make that co-worker a member of the opposite sex, and somehow things just feel odd.
It's double weird because I spend more time with officers than I do with Hubby just due to my work schedule v. Hubby's work schedule. I think that's why officers form bonds with other officers, firefighters with other firefighters, etc. We have to become a family for the trust issues. We choose to become family because of the time we are together. We must make up the largest dysfunctional family ever, but we are a family. And the week with Officer--although awkward and odd at times--will have helped me build a bigger foundation of trust with Officer. I've totally got his back any time.
I think Officer was relieved to have Hubby meet us in Santa Fe to unload me. Lucky for Officer, he has to work with me tomorrow night for a 12-hour shift...and then he'll get a whole week before he has to see me again. Lucky for me, I have Hubby who will gladly resume the duties of listening to me bitch and moan, rant and rave. And while Officer had to fill the role of listener because he had to be tethered to me, Hubby does it because he loves me. That's pretty sweet.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Bah-Humbug
It's 0200 on Christmas morning, and I'm feeling like Scrooge still.
So we all know I work graveyards, and my regular schedule is Tuesday through Friday nights. I sleep for hours when I'm not at work so that I don't totally screw up my system. This weekend, though, I made an effort to screw up my system just so that this morning, Christmas, I could go and be with people that don't like me.
To put it mildly, my in-laws don't particularly care for me. I don't think I ever cross their minds, other than when it's the holidays and they realize that they have to tolerate me for a couple of hours. Hubby and I have been married for 7 years, and we were together for just over 2 years prior to getting married, so there's 9 years of resentment on my behalf. In-laws say things that I find rude and disrespectful to Hubby, and it makes me mad (things about him not having a real job and therefore he'd never understand travelling for work--this was like 6 years ago, and it still makes me mad). In-laws tell private jokes around me and don't include me--and since we only see them once a year or so (despite the fact that we live less than a mile away from them), it's hard to learn the jokes when you're having to guess at them. In-laws make comments about me not having a college degree, and therefore I'm stupid or wasting my life--never mind that I was the responsible one with a full time job and a home owner at 19; nor the fact that I'm the only one out of my sibling-in-laws and even Hubby that has never lost a job.
Hubby and I had a really rough couple of years, and even separated for a while. Of course, according to in-laws, it was my fault--and they even knew most of the story. That Christmas, Hubby was invited to go to Colorado to be with them, but I wasn't--although we were trying to work on our marriage, and we were still married. I haven't seen the in-laws for more than say a half hour since we were separated, and it's been a couple of years now. But I'm sure I'm the paranoid one and it's not that they hate me.
So anyway, this year, we were supposed to go to Colorado for Christmas. We weren't invited, it's more like Hubby told his mom that I got the time off and we were planning to join them up there for the holidays. I did get the time off, and they moved Christmas back here. I then sort of felt guilty for taking the week off, and we lost someone at work, and I was assigned a trainee that would have had to just sit there all week long, so I agreed to give up my leave and work all week. Trouble began to rear its ugly head when I remembered that in-laws celebrate on Christmas morning...and I ended up with extra hours at work on top of my regularly scheduled 40 hours.
Hubby asked in-laws if this year we could have brunch and I would be up and functioning by 1100. In-laws called yesterday to say that they were having brunch at 1000 and Hubby said he'd be there. Is it me or is this really like a rude gesture? What the heck is wrong with waiting one more hour? I seriously am offended. And what's wrong with Hubby that he didn't say to them, gee too bad--Kate and I will be there at 1100 like I told you we could be. Hubby tells me that this is much later than they wanted it to be--and I told Hubby that he should have just told them to do whatever they really wanted since one hour obviously meant the world to them. Considering that I am the one that's responsible for providing police/fire/EMS to the whole freaking community, I don't think it's wrong of me to want to have at least 5 hours of sleep in me before going in to work for a 12 hour shift. I think it would be incredibly irresponsible and WRONG to not sleep and then I put the community--and much more importantly, my officers and firefighters--in harms way when I'm falling asleep at work and am sluggish.
So I have spent this whole weekend trying to readjust to day time, which is futile. I was awake all night long on Saturday night, and went to sleep around 0700. Then Sunday night I was awake all night long and went to sleep around 0800. And I spent most of yesterday in bed, sleeping until 1600 and then falling back asleep at 0900--and so now it's 0200 and I'm wide awake. I have to work tonight from 1830 until tomorrow morning at 0630, and I'm thinking things don't look good. There's not enough energy drinks in the world to propel me through 26 hours of life and to keep me a reasonable human being.
And now there's the whole in-law dilemma. They got their way of keeping me out by having the blasted brunch earlier than I said I could be there--and Hubby told them I wouldn't actually come until after noonish--but if I'm awake, can I really let Hubby go without me so I can sulk for a couple of hours? Or do I go to show them? Do I go and leave right after to go home to bed? We're supposed to go to my parents' house around 1630 for presents and dinner before I go to work--a place that we're both welcome and always have been welcome even in the midst of crap--and I'd much rather just go there and skip the in-laws. Who wants to go somewhere they're not welcome and are treated poorly when they could be at a comforting place?
And who says that Christmas has to be spent with family anyway?
So we all know I work graveyards, and my regular schedule is Tuesday through Friday nights. I sleep for hours when I'm not at work so that I don't totally screw up my system. This weekend, though, I made an effort to screw up my system just so that this morning, Christmas, I could go and be with people that don't like me.
To put it mildly, my in-laws don't particularly care for me. I don't think I ever cross their minds, other than when it's the holidays and they realize that they have to tolerate me for a couple of hours. Hubby and I have been married for 7 years, and we were together for just over 2 years prior to getting married, so there's 9 years of resentment on my behalf. In-laws say things that I find rude and disrespectful to Hubby, and it makes me mad (things about him not having a real job and therefore he'd never understand travelling for work--this was like 6 years ago, and it still makes me mad). In-laws tell private jokes around me and don't include me--and since we only see them once a year or so (despite the fact that we live less than a mile away from them), it's hard to learn the jokes when you're having to guess at them. In-laws make comments about me not having a college degree, and therefore I'm stupid or wasting my life--never mind that I was the responsible one with a full time job and a home owner at 19; nor the fact that I'm the only one out of my sibling-in-laws and even Hubby that has never lost a job.
Hubby and I had a really rough couple of years, and even separated for a while. Of course, according to in-laws, it was my fault--and they even knew most of the story. That Christmas, Hubby was invited to go to Colorado to be with them, but I wasn't--although we were trying to work on our marriage, and we were still married. I haven't seen the in-laws for more than say a half hour since we were separated, and it's been a couple of years now. But I'm sure I'm the paranoid one and it's not that they hate me.
So anyway, this year, we were supposed to go to Colorado for Christmas. We weren't invited, it's more like Hubby told his mom that I got the time off and we were planning to join them up there for the holidays. I did get the time off, and they moved Christmas back here. I then sort of felt guilty for taking the week off, and we lost someone at work, and I was assigned a trainee that would have had to just sit there all week long, so I agreed to give up my leave and work all week. Trouble began to rear its ugly head when I remembered that in-laws celebrate on Christmas morning...and I ended up with extra hours at work on top of my regularly scheduled 40 hours.
Hubby asked in-laws if this year we could have brunch and I would be up and functioning by 1100. In-laws called yesterday to say that they were having brunch at 1000 and Hubby said he'd be there. Is it me or is this really like a rude gesture? What the heck is wrong with waiting one more hour? I seriously am offended. And what's wrong with Hubby that he didn't say to them, gee too bad--Kate and I will be there at 1100 like I told you we could be. Hubby tells me that this is much later than they wanted it to be--and I told Hubby that he should have just told them to do whatever they really wanted since one hour obviously meant the world to them. Considering that I am the one that's responsible for providing police/fire/EMS to the whole freaking community, I don't think it's wrong of me to want to have at least 5 hours of sleep in me before going in to work for a 12 hour shift. I think it would be incredibly irresponsible and WRONG to not sleep and then I put the community--and much more importantly, my officers and firefighters--in harms way when I'm falling asleep at work and am sluggish.
So I have spent this whole weekend trying to readjust to day time, which is futile. I was awake all night long on Saturday night, and went to sleep around 0700. Then Sunday night I was awake all night long and went to sleep around 0800. And I spent most of yesterday in bed, sleeping until 1600 and then falling back asleep at 0900--and so now it's 0200 and I'm wide awake. I have to work tonight from 1830 until tomorrow morning at 0630, and I'm thinking things don't look good. There's not enough energy drinks in the world to propel me through 26 hours of life and to keep me a reasonable human being.
And now there's the whole in-law dilemma. They got their way of keeping me out by having the blasted brunch earlier than I said I could be there--and Hubby told them I wouldn't actually come until after noonish--but if I'm awake, can I really let Hubby go without me so I can sulk for a couple of hours? Or do I go to show them? Do I go and leave right after to go home to bed? We're supposed to go to my parents' house around 1630 for presents and dinner before I go to work--a place that we're both welcome and always have been welcome even in the midst of crap--and I'd much rather just go there and skip the in-laws. Who wants to go somewhere they're not welcome and are treated poorly when they could be at a comforting place?
And who says that Christmas has to be spent with family anyway?
Monday, December 3, 2007
The Healing Power of Giraffe Spit
We have just literally arrived home from a whirlwind weekend in Phoenix.
We have some fabulous friends in Phoenix, and each year, Hubby says--hey, let's go harass them and visit them while we spend every penny we've made all year long on Christmas gifts.
Ok, so that's not really how it goes. However, Hubby is good to me, and he knows I miss these friends, and he misses them, and they're really good to both Hubby and me because they let us visit each year, and each year they actually invite us back!
So we booked it out there on Friday, and after 8 hours in a car, most of which I slept because I'd just gotten off work and was grumpy and hungry and desperately in need of some zzz's, we arrived on K&A's doorstep. K&A whisked us in, let me get cleaned up, and we were off on a grownup date because their daughters had plans that night. We ate out, laughed a lot, and began our shopping.
Every year I get us in what could possibly be over our heads, but God is truly great, and He always has the bigger plan worked out beyond what I can see. My sorority has run the local Adopt A Family program for several years, and Hubby and I have always adopted--not always officially. Usually, some family ends up being the only family not adopted, or somehow their Adopters forget the delivery date, or misunderstand the program, and Hubby and I (along with begging my bleeding heart parents--it's genetic, I come by it honestly) race out and purchase items for these cases. The last two years, Hubby and I have intentionally adopted a family and then still done last minute madness. Even the year that we lived in the wealthiest community in NM, and yet made less than $25K/year combined and paid over $300/month solely in utility bills, Hubby and I maxed out our cards to be sure that others were taken care of for the holiday.
I'm not trying to brag, and I sincerely don't run around screaming "look at us and what we do;" I'm sharing this for a couple of reasons. The first and foremost being that no matter what our situation, we've always been able to pay off Adopt A Family come January. A surprise refund, profit-sharing when Hubby worked private sector, Christmas bonuses when I worked private sector, a winning poker game, whatever--we've never gone into debt for longer than we had to pay it off before interest. I really believe that this because God knows what's on our hearts, and He knows how blessed we already are, but He also knows that there's always a greater lesson every year that we learn during Adopt A Family, and He always provides.
We don't deliberately run up debt thinking that God will magically pay it off--we're completely prepared to pay it off in whatever way we have to. I don't want to sound glib about it. It is never a good idea to go further into debt for anything. However, we know that we make a ridiculous amount of money and that we have an absurd amount of crap that wasn't necessary--and if we can jack up our bills on non-necessities, we can certainly do it for a family that asks for toothbrushes for Christmas.
So there we were in Phoenix, doing our typical I want to buy everything on the list (we have a family of 6 this year) and Hubby doing his they don't need everything, when I somehow just lost it. In the middle of the little girls clothing section. Even the little saleshelp tried to pretend she didn't see me. I don't know if it's the season, or the time of month, or the fact that I was on the eve of turning another year older and realizing that life isn't what I thought it was--not good and not bad, but we'll go into that on another post--but I just started to cry. And I realized that this really sucked. We could only make a tiny difference for a day with a physical something, and it wasn't enough. And I remembered the lady last year that prayed so hard that her grandson (she was a disabled grandmother raising a 12 yoa boy) would have gotten snow boots because it snowed the day of the deliveries and he hadn't had any to wear to school, and sure enough there were the boots. So I cried some more, and Hubby tried to put me together again, and we finished for the night.
The next day was more shopping, and wouldn't you know it if Hubby didn't disappear around a couple of aisles and return with something that almost made me cry again? Everyone in the family needs jackets, and the littlest two need diapers, all children need toothbrushes, and the little boy needed a used car seat. And none of that was fun for a child, so I wanted to find toys and coloring books and dolls and Tonka trucks. After we bought everything on the list (well, we're missing Mom's jacket because I can't find a winter all purpose coat for women in Phoenix--go figure), I thought that Hubby would strangle me for also wanting a new car seat, and I was planning to call the hospital for a donation. Here comes Hubby around the baby aisles, and there's a brand new car seat on top of the basket. I don't know how I didn't lose it in the middle of that store too. I think he was relieved not to have waterworks less than 12 hours apart too!
After the second day of shopping, we went with K&A to their church (it was fun! plus, we don't usually get to see other churches when we travel, and I like that!), and then we went to dinner, where I think I spent too much time between meals (11am-8pm is longer than my grazing schedule normally allows), and I think I was drained, so I got a headache and pretty much collapsed and was no fun once we got back to K&A's house. Sorry I was a bummer if you read this!
So after we bought for our families and jacked up some credit cards for our siblings and parents, and then, as all good traveling exhausted couples do, especially when one is not feeling well, we hit the road to come home. We left at noonish, and by the time we grabbed lunch and were leaving Anthem outlet area, we were fighting. I don't know why we both claim to like traveling when it always includes a day of arguing loudly with each other and at least one of us (not me unless there are two of us doing so, of course) pouting in the car. This time I was driving, and I cranked up Carrie Underwood's new CD that's slightly angrier than the Christmas music and the hymns we had in the Jeep. In my best put off voice I announced that we were now passing the Wildlife thing I always wanted to see but of course never got to see when the great Pout became a martyr and announced we could go, so he'd look like the good guy. Trying to fix him, I pulled over, and we paid $60 for a 2 hour entrance to the park.
Watching the personnel feed raw meat (think heads and such) to lions and jaguars and bears and cougars and tigers and hyenas and wolves put us in a better mood. By the time it was time for the safari adventure (or whatever it's called), and the guide gave everyone a cookie for the giraffe, we were talking and smiling. And by the time the giraffe nuzzled each of us and ate out of our hands, we were ready to be married and in a car together again. Definitely recommend paying $60 to get slobbered on if it means you can remain married and travel home together.
Of course, I needed the giraffe again when Hubby ate corn chips that stunk up the car and I was grouchy about it. Hubby needed the giraffe when I got mad at the jerk in the truck hauling a trailer that didn't move to the left when I was trying to merge back onto I40 and flipped the truck off. Maybe I needed a giraffe again then too. And we both needed the giraffe each time we realized that by now Kiddo has landed in Iraq.
Maybe they loan out the giraffe? Or maybe they at least bottle the spit?
We have some fabulous friends in Phoenix, and each year, Hubby says--hey, let's go harass them and visit them while we spend every penny we've made all year long on Christmas gifts.
Ok, so that's not really how it goes. However, Hubby is good to me, and he knows I miss these friends, and he misses them, and they're really good to both Hubby and me because they let us visit each year, and each year they actually invite us back!
So we booked it out there on Friday, and after 8 hours in a car, most of which I slept because I'd just gotten off work and was grumpy and hungry and desperately in need of some zzz's, we arrived on K&A's doorstep. K&A whisked us in, let me get cleaned up, and we were off on a grownup date because their daughters had plans that night. We ate out, laughed a lot, and began our shopping.
Every year I get us in what could possibly be over our heads, but God is truly great, and He always has the bigger plan worked out beyond what I can see. My sorority has run the local Adopt A Family program for several years, and Hubby and I have always adopted--not always officially. Usually, some family ends up being the only family not adopted, or somehow their Adopters forget the delivery date, or misunderstand the program, and Hubby and I (along with begging my bleeding heart parents--it's genetic, I come by it honestly) race out and purchase items for these cases. The last two years, Hubby and I have intentionally adopted a family and then still done last minute madness. Even the year that we lived in the wealthiest community in NM, and yet made less than $25K/year combined and paid over $300/month solely in utility bills, Hubby and I maxed out our cards to be sure that others were taken care of for the holiday.
I'm not trying to brag, and I sincerely don't run around screaming "look at us and what we do;" I'm sharing this for a couple of reasons. The first and foremost being that no matter what our situation, we've always been able to pay off Adopt A Family come January. A surprise refund, profit-sharing when Hubby worked private sector, Christmas bonuses when I worked private sector, a winning poker game, whatever--we've never gone into debt for longer than we had to pay it off before interest. I really believe that this because God knows what's on our hearts, and He knows how blessed we already are, but He also knows that there's always a greater lesson every year that we learn during Adopt A Family, and He always provides.
We don't deliberately run up debt thinking that God will magically pay it off--we're completely prepared to pay it off in whatever way we have to. I don't want to sound glib about it. It is never a good idea to go further into debt for anything. However, we know that we make a ridiculous amount of money and that we have an absurd amount of crap that wasn't necessary--and if we can jack up our bills on non-necessities, we can certainly do it for a family that asks for toothbrushes for Christmas.
So there we were in Phoenix, doing our typical I want to buy everything on the list (we have a family of 6 this year) and Hubby doing his they don't need everything, when I somehow just lost it. In the middle of the little girls clothing section. Even the little saleshelp tried to pretend she didn't see me. I don't know if it's the season, or the time of month, or the fact that I was on the eve of turning another year older and realizing that life isn't what I thought it was--not good and not bad, but we'll go into that on another post--but I just started to cry. And I realized that this really sucked. We could only make a tiny difference for a day with a physical something, and it wasn't enough. And I remembered the lady last year that prayed so hard that her grandson (she was a disabled grandmother raising a 12 yoa boy) would have gotten snow boots because it snowed the day of the deliveries and he hadn't had any to wear to school, and sure enough there were the boots. So I cried some more, and Hubby tried to put me together again, and we finished for the night.
The next day was more shopping, and wouldn't you know it if Hubby didn't disappear around a couple of aisles and return with something that almost made me cry again? Everyone in the family needs jackets, and the littlest two need diapers, all children need toothbrushes, and the little boy needed a used car seat. And none of that was fun for a child, so I wanted to find toys and coloring books and dolls and Tonka trucks. After we bought everything on the list (well, we're missing Mom's jacket because I can't find a winter all purpose coat for women in Phoenix--go figure), I thought that Hubby would strangle me for also wanting a new car seat, and I was planning to call the hospital for a donation. Here comes Hubby around the baby aisles, and there's a brand new car seat on top of the basket. I don't know how I didn't lose it in the middle of that store too. I think he was relieved not to have waterworks less than 12 hours apart too!
After the second day of shopping, we went with K&A to their church (it was fun! plus, we don't usually get to see other churches when we travel, and I like that!), and then we went to dinner, where I think I spent too much time between meals (11am-8pm is longer than my grazing schedule normally allows), and I think I was drained, so I got a headache and pretty much collapsed and was no fun once we got back to K&A's house. Sorry I was a bummer if you read this!
So after we bought for our families and jacked up some credit cards for our siblings and parents, and then, as all good traveling exhausted couples do, especially when one is not feeling well, we hit the road to come home. We left at noonish, and by the time we grabbed lunch and were leaving Anthem outlet area, we were fighting. I don't know why we both claim to like traveling when it always includes a day of arguing loudly with each other and at least one of us (not me unless there are two of us doing so, of course) pouting in the car. This time I was driving, and I cranked up Carrie Underwood's new CD that's slightly angrier than the Christmas music and the hymns we had in the Jeep. In my best put off voice I announced that we were now passing the Wildlife thing I always wanted to see but of course never got to see when the great Pout became a martyr and announced we could go, so he'd look like the good guy. Trying to fix him, I pulled over, and we paid $60 for a 2 hour entrance to the park.
Watching the personnel feed raw meat (think heads and such) to lions and jaguars and bears and cougars and tigers and hyenas and wolves put us in a better mood. By the time it was time for the safari adventure (or whatever it's called), and the guide gave everyone a cookie for the giraffe, we were talking and smiling. And by the time the giraffe nuzzled each of us and ate out of our hands, we were ready to be married and in a car together again. Definitely recommend paying $60 to get slobbered on if it means you can remain married and travel home together.
Of course, I needed the giraffe again when Hubby ate corn chips that stunk up the car and I was grouchy about it. Hubby needed the giraffe when I got mad at the jerk in the truck hauling a trailer that didn't move to the left when I was trying to merge back onto I40 and flipped the truck off. Maybe I needed a giraffe again then too. And we both needed the giraffe each time we realized that by now Kiddo has landed in Iraq.
Maybe they loan out the giraffe? Or maybe they at least bottle the spit?
Monday, November 19, 2007
Boozing It Up
First, a quick update on Malachi: I groveled at Animal Control's feet (and the officer was very nice). AC is pleased with our fence (thank God it's completed) because now Malachi can be banished outside (if it was still chain link, that's too risky as some jerk could put his/her hand through the chain link). Also, Hubby and I are allowed to play with Malachi, but he can't be around other people or other animals, including the cats. So now we alternate who's allowed out when and when some are outside, the other is in and vice versa. The 10 days can't pass quick enough!
Secondly, I realize that I ended yesterday's post with a note that Hubby was drinking and that we don't do that much. There's a couple of reasons for that: I can't hold my liquor (half a wine cooler and I'm giggling at everything) and Hubby has never liked the taste of beer and apparently spent enough college years with the hard stuff that he's outgrown that interest other than on rare occasions--or so I thought.
We're in the local grocery store (there's only one option for MILES) and I ask Hubby if we have everything. Hubby responds that he's decided to start drinking beer, so we need to get some. Fascinated, I ask why now he's interested in beer. Hubby's response? "I feel guilty when I turn down a beer."
Thank God he's not in charge of the Pentagon. "Why are you sending soldiers and tanks to Switzerland?" "I feel guilty they don't ever have any tanks hanging around."
What if he were in charge of the Victoria Secret catalog? "Why are there fat people on the pages?" "I feel guilty that some people should never ever wear thongs."
Seriously. What sort of an answer is "I feel guilty when I turn down a beer?" I'm sure it doesn't hurt anybody's feelings that they spent whatever amount on a six-pack and Hubby is not going to drink their last one.
So what sort of beer is Hubby starting with? Guinness.
And to think that this is what a higher education can buy you. I'm sure one of his MBA courses was "How to Win Friends and Influence People" and step one was "Always accept a beer."
What an excuse to booze it up :) What happened to learning say no so you could watch everyone else get smashed at the company party and you'd be holding the pictures on Monday morning?
Secondly, I realize that I ended yesterday's post with a note that Hubby was drinking and that we don't do that much. There's a couple of reasons for that: I can't hold my liquor (half a wine cooler and I'm giggling at everything) and Hubby has never liked the taste of beer and apparently spent enough college years with the hard stuff that he's outgrown that interest other than on rare occasions--or so I thought.
We're in the local grocery store (there's only one option for MILES) and I ask Hubby if we have everything. Hubby responds that he's decided to start drinking beer, so we need to get some. Fascinated, I ask why now he's interested in beer. Hubby's response? "I feel guilty when I turn down a beer."
Thank God he's not in charge of the Pentagon. "Why are you sending soldiers and tanks to Switzerland?" "I feel guilty they don't ever have any tanks hanging around."
What if he were in charge of the Victoria Secret catalog? "Why are there fat people on the pages?" "I feel guilty that some people should never ever wear thongs."
Seriously. What sort of an answer is "I feel guilty when I turn down a beer?" I'm sure it doesn't hurt anybody's feelings that they spent whatever amount on a six-pack and Hubby is not going to drink their last one.
So what sort of beer is Hubby starting with? Guinness.
And to think that this is what a higher education can buy you. I'm sure one of his MBA courses was "How to Win Friends and Influence People" and step one was "Always accept a beer."
What an excuse to booze it up :) What happened to learning say no so you could watch everyone else get smashed at the company party and you'd be holding the pictures on Monday morning?
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Priceless
Airline Tickets to Savannah, GA for 2: $780.00
Hotel Stay in Historic District for 6 nights: $700.00
Rental Car (upgraded to a fun Mustang so we can be cool): $300
Trip to the Ocean: $150.00 and counting...
Making Marriage Memories: Priceless
We're finally home, safe and sound and almost in one piece. Savannah is gorgeous, HOT, delicious, scary, fun and expensive! Here's how it went down:
Arrived on Wednesday after a million hours on a tiny plane. Ok, so not a million, but we were on a smaller jet, an "express jet" from Houston to Savannah, and it felt tiny and after the fact that we'd been awake since 3 am Mountain time, it felt like a long trip. I couldn't wait for hubby to see the ocean, so we checked in (score one for the hotel--valet parking is included in the hotel room; score two for the hotel--there was a garden whirlpool tub in the room separate from the bathroom) and I dragged hubby off to Tybee Island. We hit the sand, right before sunset, and I did everything but shove hubby into the Atlantic. It was perfect weather, and we agreed that it stinks that I forgot the camera, but we'd buy a fake-er, disposable, camera and recreate the moment that he saw the ocean for the first time again. We went to a crab shack--neither of us eats crab. In fact, neither of us really cares for seafood at all. I was adventurous, and I had a crab and shrimp Au gratin (still don't like shrimp, and I hate to confess, but I think I prefer imitation crab) while hubby had ribs. We were bit by all sorts of bugs (guess what else I forgot to pack?), so we ended the night with a soak in the garden whirlpool tub watching the boob-tube.
So we were full of energy and ready to hit the streets the next morning. We took a narrated tour on a trolley, and then I again couldn't stand being so close to water and not being in it. Added to that which someone forgot to pack was swimsuits, so off to Walmart we went. And really, what is a vacation without at least one Walmart run? So we grabbed suits, sunscreen and bug spray (see, thinking ahead!) and returned to the beach with ample time to swim and return to clean up for a murder mystery cruise we were booked for that night on the Savannah River. After two hours of frolicking in the waves, swallowing salt water, spotting a shark fin (which it turned out upon closer inspection, was a dolphin! I had no idea they were in the Atlantic! See how deprived we are being so stinking far away from the ocean?)and getting sunburned (80 minutes of continuous coverage is not quite enough for us...who wanted to get out?), we were about to get out when I just wanted to "jump" a few more waves, and in coming down, cut the bejeezers out of my foot on something sharp and excruciatingly painful. I grabbed my foot (almost drowned while trying to sit down in a wave) and hubby helped me to my feet (well, to my foot) as I hobbled up out of the waves leaving a bloody stream on the beach behind me. Hubby thought I was being a baby, but he gave me his beloved Chicago Bear's t-shirt which I bleed through in a bunch of spots, and tried to flag down the Fire/Rescue/Lifeguards that were driving around the beach for a band aid.
Southerners are known for their hospitality, but apparently, Fire/Rescue/Lifeguards are not Southerners, or they haven't been properly instructed that a man waving his arms over his head repeatedly and drawing the attention of other beach goers may need assistance. Good thing nobody was drowning, because they drove by--twice.
We went back to the hotel (not as easy as it sounds because we were trying to keep sand out of the cut but all I had were my flip flops, and hubby left me to soak clean the cut in the tub while he hiked to the CVS to buy band aids. I called my mommy for advice, thinking I needed a tetanus shot (who knows what's in the ocean?), and sympathy, and after she consulted with her nurse, she called me back and told me to go NOW to the Urgent Care for a shot. This began the battle with the insurance companies (this is why both hubby and I carry full insurance on each other--my HMO that covers more in my state wouldn't cover anything other than a full steam emergency in another state, but hubby's insurance said go here and agreed to pay--and gave us numbers of multiple providers in the area), and after some time we headed off into unknown parts of Savannah. Note--this was at 7 pm and our cruise started at 9 pm. We were in evening attire and I was (hoping against hope) carrying my heels as we entered the Urgent Care place.
Sure enough, the doctor wanted a tetanus shot and to clean the wound herself. In doing so, she apparently shocked herself and hubby at the depth of the cut (I know I'm a drama queen, but I'm not that good of a liar, and I was secretly relieved that I was not being over dramatic with the cut). Shocked hubby to the point where the next thing I know, hubby is bumping into the sink and then I realize that he (all 6 feet 4 inches, 250 pounds) is headed directly for the doctor (all 5 foot nothing, maybe 100 pounds) head first. Sure enough, hubby is lying face plant on the floor where he landed so that the doctor was on her rear, holding the tweezers/scalpel thingy in the air and saying "Okay" over and over, like she's reassuring herself. Hubby jerks while he's coming to and looks like he's having a seizure. Nurses and aides are running to the room and I'm trying to pick up equipment that has scattered as hubby went down. I say his name, and hubby looks surprised and says "Ow" in what has to be the understatement of the year. Nurse scrapes him off the floor and puts him in a chair and doctor says to me "it's quite a bit deeper that I thought and I think it's deeper than what he thought" and decides to stitch me up while the nurse attacks hubby with a tetanus shot of his own and ice packs. I think we made quite an impression.
So off we tottered to Target to fill prescriptions for me, and then it was on to dinner--to heck with the cruise. I drove, as who knows what really caused the fall of hubby...we had had a late breakfast and skipped lunch in favor of the ocean, and had only drank maybe a bottle of water between us, so I imagine that dehydration, low blood sugar and sun contributed to the shock of the sight of the inside of my foot. Hubby sports a lovely bruise on one arm and a big cut on the other arm, along with a cut on his lip. I sport a lovely bandage and the inability to walk.
Needless to say, Savannah is a walking town, and we spent the remainder of the trip in a car or on a trolley. Hubby spent a good portion applying creams of wonder to my foot and wrapping my foot, as well as holding me upright as the antibiotic makes me dizzy. I spent a good portion wondering if he would pass out again (the shaking as he came to and the twitching seriously make me freak about a serious problem--and he is still getting searing pains through his head to the point where we made an appointment from the Houston airport for him to go to the doctor) and trying to stand on one foot. For those of you that haven't seen me, I'm too big to imitate a flamingo.
We did do a ghost tour that let us into a house where the Ghost Hunters from the Sci Fi channel show (I know that's not really their real name because hubby keeps muttering TAPS at me, but I don't know what that means), and we were able to take the murder mystery cruise tickets and turn them into a moonlight cruise, which we enjoyed. We saw the Pirate House, which is supposed to be the inspiration for the Pirates of the Caribbean, and attended a murder mystery dinner there. We toured Juliette Gordon Low's home and had a carriage tour of the historic district. We ate at The Lady and Sons (Paula Deen!) and shopped in her store. We toured the oldest African American church in the nation that was built by slaves for slaves and used in the Underground Railroad. We walked River Street. We ate some more. It was a wonderful trip, and a truly memorable trip for more than one reason :)
Now it's back to the real world. Hubby works tomorrow, and I'm trying to stay up to acclimate myself back into the graveyard schedule. Hubby sees the doctor on Friday and I get the stitches out tomorrow...hopefully both will bear good news and we will keep the good memories of Savannah and this will just be a passing laughing memory next year.
Of course, next year, we're thinking of going camping in Utah, so only God knows what will happen there!
Hotel Stay in Historic District for 6 nights: $700.00
Rental Car (upgraded to a fun Mustang so we can be cool): $300
Trip to the Ocean: $150.00 and counting...
Making Marriage Memories: Priceless
We're finally home, safe and sound and almost in one piece. Savannah is gorgeous, HOT, delicious, scary, fun and expensive! Here's how it went down:
Arrived on Wednesday after a million hours on a tiny plane. Ok, so not a million, but we were on a smaller jet, an "express jet" from Houston to Savannah, and it felt tiny and after the fact that we'd been awake since 3 am Mountain time, it felt like a long trip. I couldn't wait for hubby to see the ocean, so we checked in (score one for the hotel--valet parking is included in the hotel room; score two for the hotel--there was a garden whirlpool tub in the room separate from the bathroom) and I dragged hubby off to Tybee Island. We hit the sand, right before sunset, and I did everything but shove hubby into the Atlantic. It was perfect weather, and we agreed that it stinks that I forgot the camera, but we'd buy a fake-er, disposable, camera and recreate the moment that he saw the ocean for the first time again. We went to a crab shack--neither of us eats crab. In fact, neither of us really cares for seafood at all. I was adventurous, and I had a crab and shrimp Au gratin (still don't like shrimp, and I hate to confess, but I think I prefer imitation crab) while hubby had ribs. We were bit by all sorts of bugs (guess what else I forgot to pack?), so we ended the night with a soak in the garden whirlpool tub watching the boob-tube.
So we were full of energy and ready to hit the streets the next morning. We took a narrated tour on a trolley, and then I again couldn't stand being so close to water and not being in it. Added to that which someone forgot to pack was swimsuits, so off to Walmart we went. And really, what is a vacation without at least one Walmart run? So we grabbed suits, sunscreen and bug spray (see, thinking ahead!) and returned to the beach with ample time to swim and return to clean up for a murder mystery cruise we were booked for that night on the Savannah River. After two hours of frolicking in the waves, swallowing salt water, spotting a shark fin (which it turned out upon closer inspection, was a dolphin! I had no idea they were in the Atlantic! See how deprived we are being so stinking far away from the ocean?)and getting sunburned (80 minutes of continuous coverage is not quite enough for us...who wanted to get out?), we were about to get out when I just wanted to "jump" a few more waves, and in coming down, cut the bejeezers out of my foot on something sharp and excruciatingly painful. I grabbed my foot (almost drowned while trying to sit down in a wave) and hubby helped me to my feet (well, to my foot) as I hobbled up out of the waves leaving a bloody stream on the beach behind me. Hubby thought I was being a baby, but he gave me his beloved Chicago Bear's t-shirt which I bleed through in a bunch of spots, and tried to flag down the Fire/Rescue/Lifeguards that were driving around the beach for a band aid.
Southerners are known for their hospitality, but apparently, Fire/Rescue/Lifeguards are not Southerners, or they haven't been properly instructed that a man waving his arms over his head repeatedly and drawing the attention of other beach goers may need assistance. Good thing nobody was drowning, because they drove by--twice.
We went back to the hotel (not as easy as it sounds because we were trying to keep sand out of the cut but all I had were my flip flops, and hubby left me to soak clean the cut in the tub while he hiked to the CVS to buy band aids. I called my mommy for advice, thinking I needed a tetanus shot (who knows what's in the ocean?), and sympathy, and after she consulted with her nurse, she called me back and told me to go NOW to the Urgent Care for a shot. This began the battle with the insurance companies (this is why both hubby and I carry full insurance on each other--my HMO that covers more in my state wouldn't cover anything other than a full steam emergency in another state, but hubby's insurance said go here and agreed to pay--and gave us numbers of multiple providers in the area), and after some time we headed off into unknown parts of Savannah. Note--this was at 7 pm and our cruise started at 9 pm. We were in evening attire and I was (hoping against hope) carrying my heels as we entered the Urgent Care place.
Sure enough, the doctor wanted a tetanus shot and to clean the wound herself. In doing so, she apparently shocked herself and hubby at the depth of the cut (I know I'm a drama queen, but I'm not that good of a liar, and I was secretly relieved that I was not being over dramatic with the cut). Shocked hubby to the point where the next thing I know, hubby is bumping into the sink and then I realize that he (all 6 feet 4 inches, 250 pounds) is headed directly for the doctor (all 5 foot nothing, maybe 100 pounds) head first. Sure enough, hubby is lying face plant on the floor where he landed so that the doctor was on her rear, holding the tweezers/scalpel thingy in the air and saying "Okay" over and over, like she's reassuring herself. Hubby jerks while he's coming to and looks like he's having a seizure. Nurses and aides are running to the room and I'm trying to pick up equipment that has scattered as hubby went down. I say his name, and hubby looks surprised and says "Ow" in what has to be the understatement of the year. Nurse scrapes him off the floor and puts him in a chair and doctor says to me "it's quite a bit deeper that I thought and I think it's deeper than what he thought" and decides to stitch me up while the nurse attacks hubby with a tetanus shot of his own and ice packs. I think we made quite an impression.
So off we tottered to Target to fill prescriptions for me, and then it was on to dinner--to heck with the cruise. I drove, as who knows what really caused the fall of hubby...we had had a late breakfast and skipped lunch in favor of the ocean, and had only drank maybe a bottle of water between us, so I imagine that dehydration, low blood sugar and sun contributed to the shock of the sight of the inside of my foot. Hubby sports a lovely bruise on one arm and a big cut on the other arm, along with a cut on his lip. I sport a lovely bandage and the inability to walk.
Needless to say, Savannah is a walking town, and we spent the remainder of the trip in a car or on a trolley. Hubby spent a good portion applying creams of wonder to my foot and wrapping my foot, as well as holding me upright as the antibiotic makes me dizzy. I spent a good portion wondering if he would pass out again (the shaking as he came to and the twitching seriously make me freak about a serious problem--and he is still getting searing pains through his head to the point where we made an appointment from the Houston airport for him to go to the doctor) and trying to stand on one foot. For those of you that haven't seen me, I'm too big to imitate a flamingo.
We did do a ghost tour that let us into a house where the Ghost Hunters from the Sci Fi channel show (I know that's not really their real name because hubby keeps muttering TAPS at me, but I don't know what that means), and we were able to take the murder mystery cruise tickets and turn them into a moonlight cruise, which we enjoyed. We saw the Pirate House, which is supposed to be the inspiration for the Pirates of the Caribbean, and attended a murder mystery dinner there. We toured Juliette Gordon Low's home and had a carriage tour of the historic district. We ate at The Lady and Sons (Paula Deen!) and shopped in her store. We toured the oldest African American church in the nation that was built by slaves for slaves and used in the Underground Railroad. We walked River Street. We ate some more. It was a wonderful trip, and a truly memorable trip for more than one reason :)
Now it's back to the real world. Hubby works tomorrow, and I'm trying to stay up to acclimate myself back into the graveyard schedule. Hubby sees the doctor on Friday and I get the stitches out tomorrow...hopefully both will bear good news and we will keep the good memories of Savannah and this will just be a passing laughing memory next year.
Of course, next year, we're thinking of going camping in Utah, so only God knows what will happen there!
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