A couple of weeks ago this exchange took place:
Jon: Honey, I have the opportunity to go to France for a convention.
Me: Oh, really? (meaning, woohoo, when do we go??)
Jon: it's completely last minute, and I have to get a passport. It will be boring, computer geeks all day
Me: Oh, really? (meaning woohoo, when do we go??)
Jon: yeah, what do you think? Do you think we can afford to pay for you to come along? What about someone to watch the kids?
Me: Probably not. I am very jealous, you know. I would really like to go. (meaning, I would really like to go!)
Jon: Yeah, next time.
Me: Well, at least bring me back something.
(then I went in the bedroom and cried and moped around a couple of days)
So, I drove him to the airport, and I was stuck parenting 3 kids alone for a week. And still managed to stay mostly sane. It was no small feat. (or maybe it was the small feet...the pitter patter of them!) I will spare you the trials of that week...there isn't enough Xanax. Suffice it to say, he owed me. Big. Like, bring me back some bling from France big. Got it?
So I pick him up at the airport, and if you have ever been to LAX, you know what a zoo that place can be. I hadn't been there by myself before. What can I say? I live a very non-jet setting life. After circling the place twice, and pulling into the wrong parking garage and ending up going out the exit we arrived to pick him up. It is after 3 p.m. I have three children in tow who are tired, and ready to see their father. But no! We have to wait for the plane to deboard, he has to clear customs...did I mention I had three very antsy children with me? An hour later, he finally materializes and we head to the car. Once there, he gives the kids their souvenirs. LIttle beanie baby teddy bears that say the name of the city he was in: Lyon. How cute! Teddy bears for the kids. As I shiver excitedly, thinking of what he brought me. Jewelry? Candy? Something racy? ooh lala? Uh, no.
Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear the romance is over. THIS is what my beloved partner of 18 years brought me back, all the way from Europe. (not the frog, that is my cool magnet from the San Diego Zoo)
That's right. A kitchen magnet. I suppose I should have spelled it out to him. I mean, I have been married to him for so long, I should have remembered that when I say "Something" he hears, "something." In his defense, he was at his conferences all day, and the shops close early in France. And then on Saturday, there was a rail strike, so he couldn't get anywhere. And he is a computer coder, in any case. WYSIWIG- what you see is what you get. I know how literal he can be. And he is a great guy, but face it, he lacks imagination. He goes all the way to Europe and stays at the Holiday Inn.
And it had a really nice view of the slums behind the hotel, too. And did I mention it was 29 degrees and cold while he was there?
But. Big but. He went to France! And brought me back a kitchen magnet! This is the part where I throw a fit, and it might get ugly. Ah, forget it, I'll spare you that. You came for fun and games, not a huge downer.
Still, the magnet, it has a decent stick to it. You know how some magnets slip down the fridge whenever you put anything underneath them? This one stays. So, there's that. And it is cosmpolitan, sitting there next to the pizza delivery magnets and the kids' magnets and the "Carpet Cleaning, One Room $25" magnet that came in the mail. It makes me seem mysterious and interesting.
I'm keeping it. I want something to remind me on our 50th Wedding Anniversary of that Time He Went To France. It will make a good story. Either that, or it will be Exhibit A in the divorce hearing.
T, who must have a magnetic personality
edited to add, I really do love the guy, honest