(after an extremely exhausting – but successful – day at work)

Allan: Why don’t you take the toll road home?  It’ll give you some time to relax.

Me: Oh, so I can relax for 10 minutes before making dinner?

Allan: Damn straight!

Me: No, see, this is the part where you’re supposed to say, “Don’t worry about dinner.  I got it.  I’ll figure something out.”

Allan: Don’t worry about dinner.  I got it.  I’ll go to Bojangles.


Marriage is weird.

You date someone for a while, get to know them a little bit, then take a giant leap off of a cliff higher than you could ever imagine.  You hold hands, close your eyes, and hope to land on the other side in one piece.

You sleep next to each other, eat next to each other, share closets and bathrooms, cars and mortgages.

It’s really intense, and it’s a giant fucking crap-shoot.

It seems like you should date for years and years and yearsandyearsandyears, AND THEN get married.  Really make sure you can make it work with someone before you legally bind your life to theirs.  Throw some kids, some pets, some surgeries into the mix and see how you deal with the stress.

And if you can handle the pressure, the mundane, the magic, the joy, and the shared utensils, go ahead and get married.

It seems so much more logical than the way we currently go about it.

Lately, I’ve been stressed.  My body’s been torn apart, first via c-section then appendectomy.  I lost my grandfather.  My brother is moving away.  My parents are hurting me.  My job responsibilities are increasing.  My home responsibilities are increasing.  My fuse is shortening.  I’m depressed.

And my husband’s still here.  Miraculously, he takes it in stride.  He takes all of me in stride.

This song just flowed through my headphones, and it has always, always reminded me of Allan.  I think he has a halo.  I think that because he’s the man who put a wedding band on my finger, I’m the luckiest gal on the planet.  If he had half a clue about how remarkable he is, about how much he has to offer, he would never be with me.

But I make him laugh, so he sticks around.  He also sticks around because of the vows we made, the ones that said sickness and health, better and worse.

So, that’s it.  I heard a song that made me think of him, and made me think of marriage, and think of how incredibly lucky I am to be married to a man who has a halo, even if it’s one that only I see.

All of this is because I heard a song that reminded me of how much I love him.

What did you do this weekend?  I had my appendix removed through my BELLY BUTTON.

Through. My. Belly button.

On Friday morning, I went to the gym and did seven quick miles on the stationary bike.  Seven really quick miles – it only took 20 minutes.

When I got back to my desk, I had a stitch in my side from exercising.

The stitch persisted throughout the day.

By the end of the workday, the stitch had transformed into a sharp pain, which was so intense, it stopped me in my tracks.

When I got home, I went straight to the couch, and looked up symptoms for appendicitis.  They didn’t match what I had.  Yes, there was pain on my right side, but it didn’t originate near my belly button, there was no nausea, no vomiting, no fever, no nothing.

I looked up symptoms for kidney stones, and again, I had one or two symptoms, but it didn’t quite fit.

I walked upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes, and when I touched my abdomen, it hurt.  It really, really hurt.

I went back downstairs – without having changed, because I knew it was looking more like I’d need to leave the house – and Charlotte was playing on the floor, saying mama mama mama over and over again.  At that moment, I realized I owed it to her to get myself checked out.  For Charlotte, I need to take care of myself.

I went to urgent care, they asked a few questions, and immediately sent me to the ER with ‘high suspicions of appendicitis.’  They even offered to call an ambulance, which I declined.

At the ER, they drew some blood and ran some tests, and then sent me to have a CT scan, which was probably the worst part.  To me, those machines are associated with things much scarier than appendicitis.

The CT scan confirmed appendicitis, and the surgeons were called in.  At around 1am, I was wheeled into the operating room and my APPENDIX WAS REMOVED THROUGH MY BELLY BUTTON.

I got three new scars – good thing I was never a fan of bikinis – and was discharged 12 hours after the surgery.

I’m home, I’m very sore, and I’m very tired.

Apparently, you have between 24-72 hours after symptoms begin before the appendix ruptures, and if your appendix ruptures, you can die.  It’s very, very, very dangerous.  It’s a whole new ballgame that often ends in a coffin.

Had it not been for Charlotte, I would have at least waited until the morning to go to the doctor, if at all.  My surgeon said my symptoms were mild because I caught it early, and things would have progressed to the vomiting/fever/awful stage had I waited, and I hope at that point I would have gone to the doctor, but who knows.  It’s scary to think about.

Last Friday, March 28, 3:45 p.m.
Me: I really like the car a lot, but I know my husband’s not in any hurry to make a decision.  He’s going to be out of town on business all next week, and while he might be interested in test driving the Forester before he leaves, we’re not going to buy anything until the end of April at the earliest.

Sam the Subaru Man: That’s alright.  Have him stop by any time and I’ll be happy to take him for a drive.

Last Saturday, March 29, 12:30 p.m.
Sam the Subaru Man: This is the best price we can get you.

Me: We’ll take it!

Allan and I weren’t planning to buy a new car for at least two more years.  We’re not disposable car people.  We buy them, we pay them off, and we keep them.

But we knew we would soon need a Babymobile and, like I said, we were going to buy one in about two years.  We were going to ride-out the no car payment thing for as long as we could.

Then my parents called.  They bought a new boat.  Their 2012 fully-loaded Toyota Highlander in a pretty shimmering blue wasn’t big enough to haul the boat.  The Highlander only had 14,000 miles, and they’d give it to us for what the dealer offered them.

Did we want it?

Ummm… no.  Ultimately, no.  But it got us to thinking, and it made us realize our car-buying strategy was a bit flawed.  In two years, this could be our reality: two kids in daycare, a car payment and an 11 year old car.  If that 11 year old car decided to up and die (as 11 year old cars can do), we’d have two kids in daycare and two car payments, and we’d be eating ramen noodles EVERY NIGHT.

So we started looking for a new car down here.

I’ll spare you the details of how I test drove five different cars and was shocked to find myself torn between the Ford Escape and the Subaru Forester.  Neither of which was anywhere on my radar when the idea of a new car popped into my head, both of which are great little SUVs.

We went with the Subaru for a variety of reasons, one of which is because their advertising campaign is aimed squarely at my husband’s heart.  Little girl growing up?  Check!  Dog growing old?  Check!  The great outdoors?  CHECK!

It’s a fantastic car, has the highest safety rating in its class, and has a pretty spectacular panoramic moon roof.  The leather seats will be able to be wiped clear of kid gunk, and the heated seats will keep my bum toasty for years to come.  Subaru, I learned, doesn’t do fancy, but it’s about as fancy as a Subaru gets.

Plus, we got ourselves a really, really great deal on a 2014 car.  It was one of those right place, right time moments that doesn’t happen in my life all too often.