Right after Christmas, my sister and her hubby went on a FAAAABulous ski trip, as they do almost every year. I should explain that they are two of the nicest people alive, so you can’t help but be happy for them as they travel hither, there and yon. They love to travel, they travel often, and they travel well. Very, very well.

Before each trip, Sister always sends us an itinerary with their flight numbers, daily schedule, hotel addresses and phone numbers, etc. I always file them away In Case of Emergency and all that.

This fabulous ski trip itinerary, though, really reminded me of the contrast between our life and their life. They have season passes for professional hockey games, whereas we have a season pass for “Jack’s Big Music Show” on our TiVo. They go to Keystone. We go to Cold Stone Creamery. They are rested, refreshed and ready for whatever life has to offer, like a couple in a Mentos ad or something. David and I, on the other hand, are exhausted and desperate for a getaway (this thing you call “relaxing.” Now, what is that, exactly? It does sound fascinating. We might like to try it).

Opposite ends-o-the-spectrum, we are. :-)

So this was my reply to Sister’s itinerary for her fabu ski trip:

My Itinerary
Thursday 12/29/05

Books-A-Million

Update: David had his consultation with the surgeon today, and the good doctor – wonder of wonders – doesn’t think taking out D’s gallbladder is necessary. I won’t bore you with details, but the surgeon thinks D. had an infection and that the antibiotics knocked it out. He encouraged D. to get back on his normal diet – albeit a low-fat version – and then shout him a holla if the symptoms come up again.

Okay. He didn’t really say to shout him a holla. But it would’ve been funny if he had.

Anyway, we’re both relieved…and hoping that the upper rib fat cancer doesn’t return. :-) Seriously, we’re very grateful for God’s provisions over the last week and a half…and we’ve been reminded yet again of the beauty of comprehensive medical coverage. Have mercy.

Birthday cake for everyone!

BooDaddy’s 36th gave us some sweet little memories. Here’s one of them.

Alex likes this one episode of “Blue’s Clues” where Joe celebrates his birthday. He watches it and screams “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PARTY” at the television – he loves seeing the presents, the cake, the balloons, the whole shebang. I’ll stop for a moment while you sing the Ricky Martin song that no doubt popped in your head as a result of the last word in the previous sentence.

Give it your best William Hung, my friends.

Anyway, I think today is going to be particularly exciting for Alex, because we have a little celebrating to do at our house. You see, thirty-six years ago today, my babydaddy was born.

This birthday is going to be especially memorable because David is spending the afternoon with his surgeon! For his gallbladder surgery consultation! Oh, the joy he must feel…joy that is doubled by the fact that he can’t eat cake. Or icing. Or those donuts from The Donut Hole in Destin that he’s been talking about for four days straight (no kidding – FOUR DAYS).

I feel very blessed that, 8 1/2 years into our marriage, D. and I still like each other. We’ve worked hard to keep it that way. OH LORD have we worked to keep it that way. :-) It might not sound like much of an accomplishment, but all you married peeps know that the liking is, most of the time, waaaaay more difficult than the loving.

There are some couples who claim that marriage is an effortless, breezy adventure filled with only sunshine and rainbows. We are not one of those couples. But somehow, when problems come along, we hunker down, we argue, we talk it out, and we work through it. Then we laugh. That’s the one constant – the laughing. And God. Sorry, God – you should definitely get credit before laughter. You did invent it, after all.

I’m really proud of David. He will cringe when he reads that – he will beg me to delete it – but it’s staying and he can’t change it because he doesn’t know the BooMama password. :-) There are lots of reasons why I’m so proud, most of them too personal to talk about, especially on a blog called BooMama, because that title just reeks of thoughtful prose, doesn’t it? But one thing I must mention is that David is an unbelievable father…he gives Alex his time and his heart and his wisdom…and they adore each other. Right now Alex doesn’t understand how blessed he is to have the father he has, but one day he will – and he will be beyond grateful to have David in his life.

I know I am.

Happy Birthday, BooDaddy!

We love you.

Since Sister was kind enough to point out that the Un Clebens misunderstanding was not exactly – ahem – unusual for me, I guess I’ll just go ahead and point out the myriad other ways I unintentionally perpetuate stereotypes of people with my hair color. Well, my hair color back in the day, really. There aren’t exactly loads of stereotypes for people with dark blonde hair, although after this post I may inspire a few.

Before I completely humiliate myself, I do feel that I need to remind y’all that I was an English major. Remember? The major where you spend four years looking for all sorts of symbolism and subtext and hidden meaning? And I can do that all day long if I have a poem or novel in front of me. You give me a quote from To Kill A Mockingbird about Scout being on “the treadmill of the Maycomb County School System,” and I’ll analyze the state of education in Depression-era South and tie it all into the treadmill metaphor. You give me a novel set in Georgia with a main character who lives in an antebellum home, and I can write Lengthy Essays on how the rotting 2 x 4’s that are standing in place of porch columns signify the imminent collapse of 1880’s Southern culture in general and the main character’s family in particular.

I’m not stupid. That’s all I’m sayin’.

There have just been a few instances in my life where the obvious has gotten a little sidetracked on its way to my brain.

Case in point: Target. It was only about a year and a half ago when I looked at the Target logo in a Sunday circular and thought, “Oh, I see! It’s a target!”

When I off-handedly mentioned my newfound understanding to D – because it was such a revelation to me that I felt like I’d happened upon some information that the rest of the world had simply missed – he promptly stared, shook his head, and hid behind the newspaper. I don’t know if he was secretly laughing but didn’t want to hurt my feelings or if he simply couldn’t bare to look at One So Scatterbrained As I.

But wait! There’s more!

When D and I had been married about six months, we were traveling – from Shreveport to Baton Rouge, I think – and in a fit of boredom I pulled out the atlas as David drove. I flipped around, refreshing my memory of state capitals and whatnot, and at some point I came across an illustration of Mississippi and its western border states, Arkansas and Louisiana. I studied it for a minute, and I promise you that a lightbulb went on in my head.

“WOW! The entire western border of Mississippi is the River! It runs all the way down the side!” said the TWENTY EIGHT YEAR-OLD WITH A MASTER’S DEGREE.

D. was floored. All he could manage to say was, “You’re kidding, right?” (and by “right,” what he really meant was “please please I beg you to be kidding so I can go to sleep tonight with some assurance that I haven’t married the dumbest woman alive”).

But you see, I wasn’t kidding. It had just never occurred to me. Even tonight, as I looked at the map, I stared, for just a second, filled with wonder that the river is the border.

So, just for grins and giggles, here are some more examples of knowledge that required a disturbingly lengthy processing time for me:

The Empire State Building? As it turns out, it’s called that because New York is known as the Empire State! I had THAT revelation at age thirty four.

And there’s a shopping center? In Alabama? Called The Summit? You may not have realized it, but it’s called that because it’s at the TOP of a really big hill in addition to the fact that it’s the “peak” of shopping! It’s true!

Our local CBS affiliate had this deal where they spent the first 5 minutes of each broadcast giving a one-minute update on local news, sports, weather, etc. Their slogan was “It’s about time!” I spent four years thinking that it meant “It’s about time that someone figured out this clever format.” Only this past summer did I get the pun: it’s about time, you see, because they give you so much news so quickly!

Get it?

Obviously, I don’t.

Earlier today I ran in a convenience store to get a diet Mountain Dew and some pork rinds (NO GRIEF about the pork rinds, you hear me? They are a delicious, crunchy, low-carb treat. Sister’s got my back on that one if any of y’all try to make fun).

I walked up to the counter to pay, and while the clerk was ringing up my stuff, she started a conversation.

“I can’t eat this kind,” she said, pointing at my Golden Flake BBQ pork rinds.

“Really?”

“Naw. They’re too greasy.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I couldn’t help but wonder why she seemed so astonished that pork rinds are “greasy,” because they are in fact A PRODUCT MADE FROM PIGS, but I let it go.

“Tell you what I do like, though. I like them salt and vinegar ones. I can eat them.”

“Really?”

“Aw, yeah. They got a little less sodium, too. I really do watch that sodium.”

I thought about pointing out the ironies of watching your sodium and eating SALT and vinegar pork rinds, but not having compared the per serving sodium content of the various pork rind brands, I figured I’d keep my mouth shut and take her word for it.

At this point she was putting my stuff in a bag, and I was just about to walk away from the cash register with my tasty snack treats when she gave me way more information than I needed:

“See, I retain LOTS of water. Have a REAL hard time getting rid of it. You have a good day, hon!”

And now, even two hours later, all I can picture is that woman, sitting behind the counter at the Chevron, retaining more and more water by the second while she eats pork rinds and smokes greasy Virginia Slims.

Happy Saturday, everyone!