Friday, August 23, 2013

Marriage Pulse Check

It has been two years and nearly two months of lawfully wedded bliss with my man. 

Here are some funny thing I have learned about him:

Michael cannot seem to fold my laundry. He will help me fold his own clothes, but with anything that belongs to me, he adamantly says "I can't fold this. It's too little. There is nothing to fold! How do you expect me to fold this." He thinks this is true of every article of clothing I own.... sports bras, running shorts, tees, undies, socks.... you name it. It always makes me laugh. 

Michael can read me really well.... most of the time. But there are a few times when he really misses the cue. For example, when I am hot, I really don't want to be touched. But he touches me. If I am telling him something important, I don't want to kiss him! Yet he always wants a kiss. If I have just showered, blow dried my hair, and put make-up on, I just reallllly don't feel like hugging my sweaty husband who just came in from lifting weights. But he hugs me! 

The nerve. 

I don't think he will ever abide by my rules. 

We also have this policy that if he uses something up in the kitchen (like the milk, onions, bread, turkey, or the spinach that I eat in my salads literally every day for lunch... staples that we survive on), then he has to write that item down on the grocery list so that I know it's out. How hard is that? This is not an unreasonable request! 

It has happened once. Maybe not even once. I can't remember it happening... nope. I don't think it has.

And then later that night when I reach for the onion to saute for dinner and it's gone, Michael gives me this sheepish little angel-face look of remorse. He is too cute to be mad at for long... 

Especially when he starts dancing. Dancing is his thing he does to deflect my frustration if I am mad at him. He finds some smooth Pandora station like "Today's Hot Hits" and then starts dancing to David Guetta's "Without You." Michael actually is a pretty good dancer. He practiced in his bedroom as a teenager while rapping to Bone Thugs-N-Harmony. I'm not joking.

The sad thing? The sad thing is that his ploys work, and no matter how hard I try to muster my anger, I'm no longer mad about the dang onion. 

I can't win! 

Let's see what else. Michael can't sleep unless I am next to him in the "spot." This often turns out to be a nuisance because the "spot" just so happens to be his armpit. HAHA! I am cracking myself up writing this stuff. It's true. We fall asleep most nights with my head somewhere in the vicinity of his armpit and/or chest. Is this over disclosure? Yikes, probably so. But it's not really that weird. It sort of just works. But the problem is that I like to read before I fall asleep, so Michael whimpers until I turn out the light. Mmmm whimper is not the right word. It's more like he falls asleep and then wakes up 10 minutes later and complains that he can't sleep. But I see him! He does fall asleep! He just thinks he doesn't. 

And so go our nights. 

Michael is the driver in the family. I am the direction-giver. I think this is the safest option for all of us since I drive like a maniac ('ruthless' is the word I prefer), and Michael is directionally challenged. Ouch, did I just say that about my husband?? Alright fine.... he is..... help me out here.... more like.... a turtle behind the wheel......annnd is... sort of slow on learning his way around town. I think that sums it up nicely. To his credit, DC is pretty hard to get familiar with. So we leave way earlier than we really need to when going anywhere (but this is smart because in DC everything takes an hour anyways), and Michael drives while I dictate the directions. I just need to work on my dictation because we often end up getting in fights. 

"I said to turn!"

"You didn't tell me which way!"

"You didn't ask!"

And so go our days. 

Now, believe it or not, we are not all roses and sunshine and "I love yous" all the time, as shown by my previous example. The circumstances of our marriage make things actually quite tricky at times. Two words: MED SCHOOL. Those two little words pack a mean punch, but that is the subject for another post. 

Right now? Right now it's time for margaritas with mi amiga! Because Michael is "on call." Oh man, talk about two more words that I could do without. I could right a book on just those two little words,  and it's only been six weeks of rotations. 

But life is good! 

Living on love. 

And a few margs. 

And David Guetta.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Old School

I guess being married for 34 years gives you the right to dress alike...

Without planning it...

Annnnd not caring what people think.

My padres are adorable.

And yes, Skipster the hipster is wearing Toms. Watch out, world!

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Early Morning Escapades

We've had some funny run-ins with the cops at our little Georgetown bungalow.

I don't think I can write about some of them here, but you can just ask me and I'll tell you about how we have had (this is no lie) nine police officers, two detectives, and one undercover cop in our house within the 26 months that we have lived in DC.

I know, I know... this is SUCH a glowing report on why you should up and move to the District... Come on down!

However, of all these instances, I think my little escapade this morning takes the cake for being the weirdest call the Ward 2 police department has received in ..... well, I mean this is DC.... in a least a few days.

I was locked in my house. IN. Not out. Weird, I know.

How does this happen, you ask?

It's a combination of a new schedule with Michael's crazy hosiptal shifts and the fact that I've been a bit of a zombie since arriving home from Turkey on Monday evening.

What day is it? What time is it? Why am I so tired? Who ammmmmm I?

Jk, I actually do know who I am. But give me 40 years and it could be a different story.

Anyhoo, the story is that yesterday afternoon, I had gone for a little stroll around the hood. Whenever this happens, I leave my keys in a secret hideaway spot so that I don't have to carry them with me. When I came home from my meandering, Michael (my sweet!) was already home, so I didn't grab my keys to unlock the door. And then, when we went to bed and locked up (at 9:00pm... that has GOT to be a record), I didn't notice that my keys were not hanging in their usual spot.

Then, since Michael gets up at 4:00am now (insane), he locks the door when he leaves for the hospital so that he knows I am safe and sound until I wake up 30 minutes three hours later. So when I got up at 5:30 (this was abnormal... but I did exercise this morning for a change.... woohoo!) I tried to go outside and....I couldn't! The deadbolt was locked -- and you need a key to open it.

Now, I work from home several days a week and the truth is that sometimes I don't go outside until 4:00 in the afternoon. So honestly, I shouldn't have been too worried about being locked in. But now! Oh but now. But now I knew that I actually couldn't leave even if I wanted to. This was utterly terrifying!

The floor started to spin, my lungs tightened, beads of sweat gathered on my forehead, and...I kid you not...THE WALLS STARTED TO CLOSE IN ON ME! It's about then that I pictured my lifeless body on the cold floor and I saw the headlines in tomorrow's paper: "Mystery: woman dies in a locked room."

I don't want my life to end as a riddle!

So naturally, I called Michael in desperate panic before I could faint into a helpless mess on the floor. And naturally, level-headed one that he is, he casually suggested that I call the police to come unlock the door for me.

He is so smart. I love him so.

When the police officer, God bless his soul, showed up a few minutes later, I spoke with him through the window and showed him my secret hideaway spot where the keys were. He just stood there and looked at me like I was crazy and said he didn't understand. "You want me to unlock the door? But you are inside!" No duh. I realize that.

A rush of cool air blew through the house when the door finally opened... freedom never felt so good. I was going to survive after all!

Will wonders never cease.

Clearly, I need more time to return to a state of normalcy. Once this happens, I will write about my time in Turkey -- such a wonderful trip!

Meanwhile, Michael really loves his Turkish towel.

And I really love that he is brilliant. Where would I be without him??