just the facts

FACT: I have been married to my husband for 35 years. I met him when I was 15 and he was 20. (what the hell was he thinking?) Collectively we have known each other 39.8 years. I believe that warrants repeating….39.8 years! FACT: My husband is deaf. He has a good ear and a bad ear. Only problem his good ear hasn’t been so good in a long time and his bad ear is dead basically. So for those two reasons our weekend trip upstate began something like this:

I begin….This weekend, are we going upstate?
No, I had steak already this week. Doctor wants me to stay away from too much red meat.
No No I said UPSTATE.
Upstate?
A R E W E G O I N G U P S T A T E T H I S W E E K E N D?
Why do you talk to me like I’m a child?
I don’t talk to you like you’re a child, I talk to you like you’re deaf.
Ok, wanna leave Friday….?

The car packed and the dog in the back seat we head for our local bagel store for an on the road breakfast. I drive, I always do. FACT: My husband drives like an old jew (apologies to my Jewish friends, but honestly have you been to Miami?) and I am a horrible passenger. I make no bones about it. I am the only one who can drive in the whole world. Ask anyone who has ever driven with me, especially my kids. FACT: I get the same thing every single time we go to the bagel store…coffee just milk and a bagel with cream cheese. And every single time we get to the bagel store my husband asks me what I want. One day I am gonna surprise him and change it up a bit, maybe have sugar in my coffee or get a bialy instead. Maybe for our anniversary. FACT: We go the same way every single time we go upstate. The Van Wyck to the Grand Central to the Major Deegan to the GW Bridge, Palisades to Rte 17N….same way EVERY SINGLE time. So when he asks, taking the Deegan?… I don’t answer. He’s deaf anyway and thinks I answered and he didn’t hear me. FACT: I don’t have a patient bone in my body. For traffic jams, lights and especially for stupid people who can’t drive there monstrous SUV’s without taking up two lanes. As soon as the traffic starts backing up on the Van Wyck I have an attitude.

Want me to open your bagel for you?
Does it look like I could eat right now? (if he was smart he would have said you always look like you could eat…or smarter still, he says nothing)
Want me to vent your coffee?
Sure, knock your socks off….
Where’s there a cop???
No not a cop, I said ‘knock your socks off.’
Oh,… so vent it?

FACT: By the time we get to our house we have exchanged a total of 39.8 words. (See why paying attention at the beginning was important.) Three hours and other than the bagel exchange and the venting issue we had said nothing constructive to each other. We do however toss comments up for grabs….he like the one about the fact that water puddles near the beginning of the Grand Central. I could give a rats ass since I pass it at 65 mph and wouldn’t have noticed it had it not been pointed out to me some 43 times already. I comment on the stench coming from my dog in the back seat (he has issues) and he wants to know if the groomer who basically does foo foo dogs with polished nails and teeny tiny bows would be able to clean up my stinky 75 pound maybe-we-should-muzzle-him-for-this makeover mutt. He likes to point out the speed limit for every different roadway we take including the town of White Lake where he is especially happy to point out is a mind crushing slug’s-pace 40mph. (remember the old jew in him) I am happy to point out that I have only gotten one speeding ticket and that was because I was coming down a hill and the damn guy in front of me, who of course couldn’t drive, blocked my view of the sheriff’s car. (I ended up pleading that down to a lesser offense since Andy had to get home to Opie and dinner.) I note that there are several garage sales that I want to go to once we have unpacked. He likes to point out that I keep buying other peoples garbage. I point out that if he hadn’t cluttered the garage and shed with so much shit I would have a place to put my garage sale finds to which he points out that his shit is good shit, while my shit is someone’s else old shit. FACT: We had a wonderful weekend.