Murphine the Mean

Okay so let's continue on with the story of Murphy.


(For Murphy Part 1 - Click Here)


In the first few months I had Murphy I was a nervous wreck. I had never taken care of anything before besides Sam and I only had him for two weeks tops.


I guess you could count those fish that freak out when you put a mirror up to them? What are those called? I don't remember, but I went through a couple of those as a kid.


Other than that no pets.


My Murphy was a hand-full.


First it took her several weeks to learn how to clean herself. I don't want to explain why (and you'd thank me for that) but I was forced to her to give her baths. The very thought of this makes me cringe just thinking about it. It sounds cruel but it was necessary, I promise. Thankfully my roommate's cat, Tink gave Murphy the 411 on cleaning up and that problem was solved in no time.


Things were really starting to settling down with Murphy and it came time to take her in for her shots.


On the day of her first vet visit, I put her in the car with me in the front seat. Fastening my seat belt, I looked over at her in my passenger seat. The little ball of of fluff looked so peaceful perched in the seat and for a moment I imagined she would be just like any pet I've ever seen in a car (in the movies I've seen).


Okay, I may have pictured her more like a dog in my daydream. I have no idea why....


My daydream went something like this:


The moment I would pull the car out the drive, Murphy would jump up with excitement. She would be so ecstatic she's chase her tail in a circle for a few seconds. Then she would give me that look and I would say "alright Murph" and I'd push the button for the window. The window would slide down and Murphy would jump up with her back legs on the seat, front legs on top of the car door. She'd stick her head out the window, her whiskers blowing wild in the wind, tongue flapping in her face. Her eyes sparkling. Every now and then she would glance back at me and I would smile and she would smile...okay I realize this is impossible.


This is not at all how it went obviously. Because cats can't smile and Murphy's not a dog.


The moment I started the engine. Every muscle in Murphy's body tensed. Every strand of black and white fur straightened and pointed out in every direction possible. She jumped to her feet and arched her back. Her face stricken with terror. Eyes wide with fear.


: (


Okay I thought after starting the engine, Murphy would settle down. But this was not the case. As I drove down our street, Murphy threw her body ALL over my car. She was like a ball in a ping pong machine. Thank God I had the good sense not to put the window down because she would have shot her body right out of the window. She was a loose canon.


To anyone driving next to me, I would have looked like I was grasping madly at the air. Murphy was too fast for my hands. She was on my head, on my head rest, in my rear window, in my front window, on my shoulder, on my steering wheel, under my seats....oh yes and under my brakes (this was pretty tricky braking, I mean, without squashing her).


She howled this heart wrenching cry. Over and over.... and over again. This really crazy cry for help could have mistaken for a wild animal had I not known the source.


I don't know how we made it there in one piece, but we did.


When I finally pulled up into a parking space at the vet. I thought the worst was over. That she had gotten it out of her system.


She had not.


I pulled my visor down and attempted to fix my disheveled hair before going in. I took a few minutes to collect myself before getting out of my car.


Scooping my trouble making Murphy up, I carried her inside. Nestled in my arms you won't have recognized her as the holy terror that just ransacked my car only a few moments ago.


I put my hand on the door, pulled it towards me, and stepped into the rush of cool air conditioned veterinarian office air.


I'm not sure how much time passed, maybe seconds. It seemed like a millisecond.


All I know is that I had Murphy in my arms when I walked into the vet and when I got to the front desk, she was on my head. Yes, on my head.


Claws marks all up my arms, claw marks on my neck, claw marks on my scalp. Not to mention all the ones that were already there from the car ride.


I heard snickers from some people seated in the waiting room with their well behaved cats and dogs. I looked nervously around me, embarrassed of course, because try as I might Murphy wouldn't budge as I attempted to pull her off. When I managed to get her claws out of my scalp I brought her back down and tried to nestle her back in my arms.


And she was back on my head.


There was only so much scratching my arms, neck, and head could take before I decided I'd let her stay up there. I balanced her with one hand.


How did this look?


Well, I looked like I like a woman going to the well with my ceramic jar on my head, only my jar was Murphy and my well was the front desk of vet.


Walking up to the counter, I felt like I also looked like the moron who didn't think to put her cat in cat carrier.


The woman said, "You know, you could have brought her in carrier." I didn't have the heart to say anything. I just nodded my head.


I filled out paperwork all with Murphy clawed into my head and when I was done several vet people helped pealed her off of me and took her back to get her shots.


As I sat there in the waiting room, I thought, Well it's not soooo bad. If that's the worst I have to deal with having a cat. Can't be that bad.


Ha. If only.


To be continued...

Our Wedding Pictures

This is a shout out to my best friend Eray! I wanted to post a link to her blog about her photography.


This is the link to her blog: http://erayphoto.com/blog/


Here is the link to our wedding pictures on her blog: http://erayphoto.com/blog/2009/11/20/wedding-jason-carrie-october-23-2009/


Check it out! She did a wonderful job and her photography is so awesome!

My "Dog", Murphy

I feel a little guilty having written about Muffin when I haven't mentioned a word about Murphy our house cat, so let me make up for it in the following blogs.


About five years ago, I was living with some of my friends and I decided it was time to get a pet. I found a lost dog and I suppose that inspired the idea. I couldn't locate his owners so I decided that I should keep him and that I would make him my own.


I bought him some food and a collar, a leash and some toys. I even named him Sam. But despite all that I did for Sam, he didn't want anything to do with me. In fact every chance he got he tried to slip away.


I couldn't keep him in the house so, I boarded up the back fence and I attempted to keep him in our big backyard. But Sam wouldn't have it. He always seemed to get out somehow.


I spent most mornings chasing him down the street, calling out his name, finding him and walking him leash in hand back to my house. I couldn't let him go for a minute because he would take off. That should have been some indication for me. There were plenty of hints but I convinced myself that he was mine.


One morning, Sam had gotten out like he always did and I went racing out to go find him. I think I may have been in my pajamas. I called his name as loud as I could without disturbing the neighbors and hoped no one would come out to find me looking like a complete lunatic. Then, I heard someone calling....another name (I can't for the life of me remember what). Curious I walked barefoot further down the street to find a woman searching in bushes and peaking between houses. I asked her what she was looking for her and she lets out a sigh and says her dog is missing. Well not "her" dog but this dog they found the other day.


Hmph.


I ask her if the dog has black hair and two golden brown spots above his eyes that look like eyebrows. Is he sort of short?, I ask. Like a weeny dog but has the look of a German Shepard?
Is he in the habit of always running away?


I can't believe I thought Sam was mine.


It turns out Sam had been spending time with her family too. He wasn't their dog. They found him just like I did. I guess I realized at that point that Sam wasn't all mine and that he was in the business of being everybody's rescued dog. Maybe he was always running off to be found by someone else. Maybe he was used to having people buy him a leash, food, dog dish and toys. Maybe mine weren't good enough for him. Maybe he was hoping for something better.


I called it quits and walked home with my dog leash and no dog.


Once Sam was gone, I knew I better go find my own dog.


Of course I looked at all my options. I was a regular at the pet store on Hardy Street. I guess that's the polite way of saying I was pet stalker at the Pet Store. I was there at least three times a week.


Everytime I went I got the same "oh it's you again" wave because they started to recognize me. I had no shame. I would give them the smile and nod and I'd point to the room with all the dogs and I'd spend some time searching for the right one.


But there never was a right one. I never got a dog. Turns out my roommate was allergic. Get a cat, she told me. I hadn't thought of that. So the search began for Murphy.


I was still doing my regular visits to the pet store, but decided to check the newspaper for any ads for kittens. There was a woman not far from our house who was trying to give away kittens so my friend, Bowman and I went over to check it out.


When we got there it was just as I expected. A mom (calico) cat and dad (tuxedo) cat on this woman's porch with several 6 week old kittens squirming around.


Some were gray and fluffy with matching grey eyes. Smoky, they looked like puffs of smoke to me.


There was one that was the worst calico mix I had ever seen in my life and one in the far corner of the porch, a tuxedo cat.


The woman was babbling on about how she thought her cat was neutered when she got it and then the next thing that she knew she had kittens in her closet. She tells me that the father is this tuxedo cat. She points at him. He's ours too, she says like I should know that the daddy isn't just some male cat off the street, that what we have here is something really domestic. she points to the calico kitten and says that nobody wants that one because its so ugly.


And it was.


I stood there staring at the ugliest cat in all the world. There wasn't a single patch of pure color on its little body. It's orange, white, and black hairs were mixed together like a mixture of creole seasoning.


I should have felt sorry for it. But sadly, I didn't.


It wasn't Murphy. I could tell that right away.


I think she thought her comment would spark empathy but I was really only interested in the loner tuxedo kitten on the other side of the porch. I walked over to the tuxedo kitten stationed off in the corner and crouched down beside her. I tried to pet her. Instead of a soft purr, she turned sharply around and glared at me. She let out this bark that I didn't even know kittens could make. Her eyes weren't sweet, they were cross. She was aggravated. A little ball of fury. How dare I pet her. She wanted to be alone. She moved a few feet to get away from me. And that's when I knew she was mine. Crabby little kitten. How could I not love her.


More on this later. :)

Tin Can Pepper

Grocery shopping.
One of my jobs in our house is to do our grocery shopping. When assigning who does what that's what I raised my hand for. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into.
I used to really I hate it. The truth is that before Jason, grocery shopping was not something I did much. I never made a list. Never made a budget for it. Never could tell you what was on what isle.
But things have changed. I'm a new person. I am grocery shopper. I'm actually a pretty good grocery shopper.
Like most things I take on, I researched it. I googled coupons that I've never used. I tried to find a list of staple items. Something tangible to make my first grocery list. I found nothing of the sort.
You can't google a grocery list. It's just not how it works.
Apparently its all trial and error. And I really hate trial and error.
You might be asking yourself why if I hated grocery shopping did I raise my hand for it? It's simple.
I'm the bargain hunter and Jason is the package shopper.
If the bargain shopper goes shopping the monthly bill is less than $200.
If the package shopper goes shopping it will be $200++++++ and all they have to show for it is four or five of the best products on the market. Some ribs, and some steaks.
Why?
A bargain hunter = a person who buys the item that is the cheapest on the shelf
A package shopper = a person who looks for the coolest looking product.

I didn't even know there were package shoppers until I met Jason.
There were tell tale signs in the beginning.
A bottle of wine with an extravagant label.
Chips in in a beautifully constructed bag made to look like it had been recycled a hundred and fifty times over.
You could open the cabinets at his apartment and find products with beautiful labels. Cursive letters, bright colors, elaborate packaging. Phrases on them that said, "organic" "100% tastier"
I knew when I saw these things at Jason's place when we were dating that something was up. Confirmed it when we went shopping together.
For every cheap store brand item I picked up. Jason's picked up the most expensive, nicest looking product. "Look," He would say, "Now doesn't this look nice." His eyes would sparkle with excitement. A big smile on his face.
In those days, I let it go. It was his money.
But now. It's ours.
So a few nights ago, when Product Shopper asked me Bargain Huntress if we could have a grocery store date, I should have known what was in store for us....ha "in store"!
He called me at work and offered to ride over to the store with me. Asked me if I had a grocery list.
Nope, cataloged in my head, I say. (I lied.)
There's silence on the other line. (I know he's contemplating staying home because this could take longer than he hopes for.) I need to lasso him back in and fast.
You see as a bargain huntress, I know a great deal when I see it. I see a great deal all wrapped up in one. I see a grocery cart pusher, a grocery bagger, an grocery loader, and best of all a grocery UNloader. I need to keep him interested or I could lose all of the above.
"You know, I know exactly what I need. And it should only take a hour at the most. (more like three hours, really who knows...I forgot to make a list so it could take forever)." I'm trying my best to sound convincing.
A package shopper doesn't shop for three hours like Bargain Hunters do. They wouldn't waste time. They are in and out of the store in less than fifteen minutes. It's not unusual for this breed of shoppers. They can spot a good product in seconds.
Bargain hunters? Not so much.
"Oh okay, I'll go, but an hour, okay?." He says.
"Yep just an hour. :)" And we are set to go.
We get to Wal-Mart----I know---the dreaded Wal-Mart, I don't know why I skipped out on Casey Jones, my market of choice. I immediately remember why I don't bring my husband with me to the store. Why I choose to shop alone. Why I choose not to have someone challenge my Great Value and Equate purchases.
It all starts with pepper and its down hill from there.
Jason's been loading the grocery cart with some things he's been needing for some ribs he plans to cook later this week. Pepper is one of those things he needed.
I wasn't really concerned about any thing he's been throwing in the cart until the pepper.
"Hey, what do you think about this pepper." He says.
(Oh no.)
I glance around my shoulder at the pepper he's holding up for me. I walk over and sure enough its one of those metal container peppers jars. I'm kind of a sucker for those too, so I halfway understand why he's interested in it.
It has a black label over a gold tin can and nice bold lettering. It looks (....very Saints-like) antique and vintage. It screams "hey I'm the old-school" pepper. It looks.....more expensive than regular pepper.
I look at him and say "okay where's the other pepper you had?"
He reaches into the cart and pulls another tin can pepper. Maybe they all come like this...I starting to wonder whether I have I ever bought pepper. Do they even make Equate pepper?
Suddenly I too am fascinated by tin can pepper.
I quickly pop back into reality, "Well I say (thinking about bargains again) what's the price difference?"

"Its a dollar more...BUT it has two more ounces."
This is the problem with the bargain huntress, she can be adamant in her ways, eyes on the prize, ever focused on the bargain, but this can be no match for the package shopper who can become just as convincing as the product he is infatuated with.
I'm too tired to do the math. I'm sold. But wait---
"Okay well where is it made?" Shouldn't that have some factor? I can't let him win. Not over pepper.
We start scanning the fine print.
Minnesota and then the other can - Minnesota.
Both are Minnesota.
Pepper Competitors.
Okay you win, Jason.
But that wasn't the end, it was the beginning. For every Equate brand I went for, there was Jason's fancy brand. I tried losing him in the store but it only worked for a little while.
At one point, I suggested we split up. Go our separate ways. Makes sense, I say. We are shopping for different things.
Truth is I need to get away. And fast. I need to buy my Equate, my Great Value.
Once I'm on my own I pull myself together. I turn down a new isle and I try to remember my mentally cataloged grocery list. Then I scan the isles for the cheap stuff. I make my way down the isles and as I turn, I see him.
Standing beside a display of something jarred. Looking at labels.
I throw the grocery cart in reverse and almost pop a wheely trying to backtrack to the isle I came from. It's too late.
"Look Carrie. It's..."
Nope I'm gone.
By the time we finished I had enough of the cheap stuff and Jason had enough of the fancy products to make us both pretty happy and satisfied with our trip.
And the pepper?
I admit it's some pretty tasty pepper. Much better than Equate and the Great Value stuff. :)

It's Mardi Gras Time!!!!

We had four parades that passed on our street this weekend and Jason's family and my friends came over to watch them with us!!! We had a blast! :)

Wolverine's girlfriend, Barbie

I'm writing this post in celebration of my brother, Jason's birthday. Today, he's turning 28 which means I'm not far from turning.....27. Jason and I were born fourteen months apart. So when he was five months old my mom discovered she was pregnant with me. Can you imagine!

In honor of his birthday I will tell you one of my favorite memories about us growing up.

____________________________________________________________________

When Jason and I were kids we could play for hours and hours with our toys.

Jason's toys- X Men

Carrie's toys- Barbies

I had millions of Barbies but unfortunately only one Ken. And one New Kids on the Block, Joey Macintire doll.

(I was horrified by the New Kids on the Block doll, I can't remember which one, whose hair was all plastic except for the rat tail in the back which was more like Barbie's hair. Yikes!) My Barbies weren't interested in those New Kids so fortunately I got Joey who was more clean cut and all American. Just Barbie's kind of guy.

Mostly my Barbies dated Joey because his arms were bent like Barbies and it was alot easier for them to dance or walk arm in arm. Ken was a lost cause with his straight arms that rested on Barbie's shoulders. It was nothing personal, its just that life was easier with a man with bent arms than it was with those straight armed fellows. Most the time Ken doll stayed in his tuxedo suit he came in and sat at home in my 3 story Barbie mansion while my Barbie dolls ran around town in the Barbie Ferrari with Joey.

That is until the X men came to town.

When the X-Men came to town, things were different.

There were more men in town. I guess Barbie was getting tired of Joey and his stupid red letterman jacket.

When the X-Men came to town, it just meant there were more men to choose from. Who cares if they were half her size?

They were impressive.

Alot more impressive than Joe.

Wolverine had claws on his hands. Gambit could throw cards that exploded. Cyclops had the nice sunglasses. Not designer, but Barbie didn't care.

What was Joe good for?

Singing. Oh. right. A boy band.

When the X-Men came to town all Barbie thought about was dinner dates with Wolverine.

But I can tell you that that was the farthest thing from Wolverine's mind.

He was fighting battles of course, that Barbie could see from the 3rd story of her Barbie Mansion.

Barbie needed to scheme her own plan of attack.

Hopping in her Ferrari she sped over to the scene of an X Men battle.

While the battle was going there, came a moment when Wolverine was finally on his own. Barbie attacked. Like a eagle swooping down for its prey, she raced her car over and threw Wolverine in the passenger seat and floored it. Wolverine didn't stand a chance. Even his adamantium claws were no match. Not even Professor Xavier could have seen it coming.

As Barbie sped off she was happy she had wolverine all to herself. She started telling Wolverine all about their date that she planned. :) Wolverine didn't have much to say, in fact he said nothing at all. That didn't matter much to Barbie who was quite the talker......

"CARRIE!!! Where IS MY WOLVERINE!!?" Jason barks from across the room. He's been consumed with X-Men battles and has finally noticed his absence.

I turn around slowly to Jason, my hand still on the Barbie Ferrari, strategically blocking my brother's view from the inside of the my Barbie mobile.

"I haven't seen him" I lie. This could ruin everything for Barbie.

He doesn't trust me. He rolls his eyes and He walks over to me. He glances down at my Barbie car. I glance sheepishly up at him.

"What are you doing!" He snatches Wolverine out of the car and takes him back over to the battles on the other side of the room.

I sigh.

Barbie puts the car in gear and heads back to the Barbie house, back to bent arms Joey and straight arms Ken.

Professional BMX Bike

In order for the second part of my story to make sense I need to provide you with some background information. Let's take a trip back in time twenty three years ago to New Hebron, Mississippi. To a time when when my husband wasn't my husband but a silly little boy of about eight years old with a big time imagination and a knack for exaggeration.


I'm not sure if that's changed - the part about the exaggeration, I mean. :)


I'm going to tell you about two pretty impressive friends J had as a kid. The first one, just because it's funny and the other because he makes his way into my present day story.


When J was a kid, he had a pretty tight friendship with a man named Echo. When J's friends came over they got more than an ear full of stories about Echo who lived in the woods just behind his house. It seems that J had a pretty consistent correspondence with this man who was---did I mention?----a monster. Okay he wasn't a monster. It would sound better if he was. He was just an everyday guy with a bad temper.


Anyway, J would often yell at the top of his lungs to Echo. And Echo would ---you guessed it--respond with the exact same thing that J screamed out to him.... just a few seconds later. J's friends were warned that they could only scream out to Echo in moderation, because if you overdid it, you could make him very angry. If he was mad he would come out to get you and believe the eight year old J you did NOT want that to happen.


I guess Echo got pretty tired of always repeating everything and maybe doing this a few times every once in a while was all the talking he was up for. Who knows what his beef was. As far I know he never came out to get anybody but I don't think anyone ever dared to test him.


The other friend of J's was a little nicer. J's friend, professional BMX bike racer (No name needed here) was a good friend to have. Not that Echo wasn't---let's not cross him---but BMX racer was super generous. So generous it seems that he had a BMX bike specially designed for J. Probably according to his height and weight. More than likely had special wheels put on it too and all the necessary parts to make J a mini professional bike racer. I'm guessing J's professionally made bike was the talk of the town and the other kids wished they had a friend like that.


Now lets jump to present day - December of 2009 - Christmas time.


J and I are planning our first Christmas together. We decide this year we will be our last year to buy Christmas presents for each other so we did our best to surprise each other. I got J a Nintendo DS and and J, I was convinced got me a Kindle.


If you don't know what a Kindle is, I'll tell you. It's an electronic book. You can download books to this little device and you can read them without turning pages.


How did I know I was getting that?


Well, because I'm pretty clever that's why.


Okay the truth is, is that one day J was looking at an ad for a Kindle and at the same time he brought up Christmas gifts. That's how I knew. I'm getting a Kindle!! Not so sneaky after all, J.


Here's where it gets embarrassing...


Not only did I think I was getting a Kindle, I told everyone I was getting one. Everyone at work. Everyone in the line at the Casey Jones. A woman at Louisiana Products where I stopped to get lunch. My family. My neighbors. And believe me it wasn't just one conversation with some of these people. It was multiple conversations. Yes, we talked about what they do, what the new features are, what books I should download. You see where I'm going with this...


I didn't get a Kindle.


There I said it.


If you are reading this and you wonder why I haven't talked about my kindle since Christmas, its probably because it wasn't my Christmas present.


Here's how it went on Christmas morning...


My eyes pop open. I jump up and scream "let's go see what SANTA left us!!!"


I really said that.


It was really exaggerated with a huge emphasis on the word, Santa. I get ready to race down the hall and J catches my elbow before I catapult my body out of the room. He tells me to sit still and wait.


Excuse me?


Apparently he didn't wrap my present and he needs to go into the living room and do that real quick. I give him an "are you kidding me" face. Didn't wrap my present!?


it's a KINDLE.


It's SMALL.


It would take no time to wrap. I could have wrapped it. What a slacker.


Then I hear the front door slam and I hear him walk around the side of the house. Did he leave it the car. Come on, Really?! Didn't even bring it inside. Whatever. I lay there with my arms folded. Minutes go by and I'm growing impatient. Finally the door opens and closes and he's back in the bedroom. Okay, it's ready. he says, a sly smile on his face.


I trot down the hall and then I stop.


What is that?


Yep, you guessed it, not a kindle.


BUT ........... a beautiful blue BIKE!


The bike I've been dying for!! (I gave my old one away and so I've been bikeless all this time...) "Holy Cow, You got me a bike?" I say. I'm so excited my words come out like squeals. I hug J and I say, "I thought you got me Kindle!! and he says, "What's a Kindle????"


*Sigh*


So the bike is really awesome and its a commuter huffy. As I'm inspecting it J is briefing me on all the specifics... he had them put fenders on it and a thing for a basket. "Well actually," he says with a funny grin on his face, "I had them MAKE it for you according to your height and weight." He says this like he's expecting me to laugh but I'm so impressed! "Wow," I say. "You did this all for me?"He has this look on his face like he surprised by my reaction. I hardly noticed it though because I was so caught up in the bike and the fact that it was made for me that I never thought to question it.


So now I have this bike that was MADE for me.


Let's jump to a few weeks later. J's birthday is fast approaching. With all the thousands of "I wish I had a bike" hints he had been dropping I knew that a bike would be his birthday present.


Besides I had this cool bike that was made for me and he needed one too.


Here's what my problem was. I was worried they wouldn't be able to make it in time for J's birthday which was a week and half away.


How far in advance would they need to know his height, his weight?


I needed to act fast.


I figured I should call the Petal Shop to give them the heads up that I was coming down there. I find the number and give them a call. A man answers. I explain that I need the bike pretty soon and he says that they are out of stock. This doesn't faze me because I know that it has to be made anyway and and that's all that I'm thinking about. He tells me I can order it over the phone but I tell him I want to come down there to talk to him about. He says okay but there's hesitation in his voice and I hang up the phone. Geez, I need to go over there and tell him all details to make J's bike for Pete's Sake.


On the first Monday I had off of work I drove over there. I walked in the store and head to the back where the registers were. I wave over to the sales guy and he walks over to speak with me.


"I called over here a couple days ago," I say. "I spoke to someone about getting a commuter huffy for my husband."


"It was me." he says, he looks tired or annoyed or both.


"Well," I say. "I came in to tell you all the specifics....My husband is 5'9 and I think he's about 160 pounds."


"Excuse me?"




"He is 5'9 and 160 pounds." (Does he not need to be writing this down some where?")


He just stares at me and I fumble over my words.


"Because, don't you need to know that for the bike"


"Um..."


"Because the bikes are made according to your height and weight??"


He is looking at me like I have left my brain at home. And I'm starting to feel like I might have.


I start grasping at straws, "Wait a minute. You don't make bikes to fit the person that rides them.?"


"No mam we don't. That would be weird."


"and the fenders? my husband said you added the fenders and the basket thing for me."


"It comes like that."


"Huh?"


I'm embarrassed. I write a check so fast and ask him when the bike will get here.


"Two weeks," he says.


Great.


I paid for J's pre-made bike and I jet out of there.


Oh, and by the way I'm mad.


But I can't tell J yet. Nope that would ruin his birthday surprise. :)


That Friday, we go out to eat for his birthday.


We decided to eat at Tony Mandina's because every time we go its closed, but we think might luck out this time. It's raining when we pull in and a nice man in a big yellow raincoat runs over to my side with an umbrella to walk me to the door. When we pop in I'm surprised at how pretty it is in there. I guess because its seems like such a rough exterior that the inside, with its candles and soft music, is a pleasant surprise.


We walk in and --I'm guessing Tony?-- and his wife run up to us like they know us and thank us for coming in. They're celebrating their anniversary and Tony motions over to the bar to a the biggest bouquet of long stem roses I've ever seen. We smile, congradulate them and follow the waitress to the table.


As we settle in for dinner I'm thinking about how funny it will be when I bring this up and I sort of can't wait.


Two glasses of wine and pasta dishes later, he's ready to open the card I brought with us. Since I couldn't bring a bike with us to dinner and it was still in California anyway - being made in a factory for the---uh, general public man of any height and weight-- I decide to draw a picture of a bike on his birthday card. It's barely discernible by the way because I was in a hurry.


When he finished reading the card and he's figured out what the drawing is he is thrilled.


"A Bike! Wow I had know idea"


I don't believe that....all those "I want a bike" hints.


I tell him how happy I am that he's happy. I lean in and give him a hug and a kiss.


And then....


I slide the card across the table and I take a sip of my wine.


"J, you have some explaining to do.."


"Huh?"


"Well," I say. "I went to get your bike last week and when I got there I waltzed in and told the salesman your height and weight, that you wanted fenders...."


J said, "Oh God...."


J bursted into laughter. We both did. So loud that all the tables turned to look at us.


I tell him the whole story and we are in tears laughing. He tells me how he tried to make a joke about having my Christmas bike made, because of the story of his BMX bike. A story I had heard a dozens of times. He wonder why I hadn't laughed when he told on Christmas day and decided just to let it go because I was so caught up in the bike.


Me, well I felt a whole lot like Lucy in I love Lucy - where she takes something and runs with it. And in the end Ricky and her have a pretty good laugh about it.


Good old Lucy. At least I'm not the only one. :)


P.S. I love comments! So feel free to comment. I have no idea who reads these!!