Friday, June 29, 2012

The Cinnamon Raisin Bagel Incident

Long ago, when our marriage could be measured in months easier than years, we were broke. Not in a wow this really needs fixed way, more like a can groceries be considered optional this week? way. Broke enough that fancy bagels, or even regular bagels for that matter, were a delicacy. My sweet new husband decided to treat me and picked up beautiful cinnamon raisin bagels after an early morning shift at UPS. Unfortunately I despise raisins; from the texture to the taste to the thought of poor grapes losing all their god-given moisture to become shriveled shells of themselves. Yuck!

They may actually be my least favorite food, but somehow the subject had yet to come up.

We've laughed about the cinnamon raisin bagel incident for years. It represented everything we still had to learn about each other and the surprises still left to find in our relationship.

Peter still likes to bring home small surprises for me. He often picks something up when he's out, although after the cinnamon raisin bagel incident, he buys things he already knows I like. Which is why he was struck last week when he passed a case of Cherry Vanilla Diet Dr. Pepper. Knowing my preference for DDP and my love of vanilla flavoring, he immediately picked it up to surprise me. But there was a major flaw, however, as this gift was Cherry Vanilla Diet Dr. Pepper.

You see, three days before I was messing around with my "about me" section on this very blog. Trying to be silly, I had started with the most trivial information I could think up about myself. This is what I'd written:

"The most important thing you could know about me is that I hate the taste of cherries. Not cherries themselves, just the taste of them as a flavoring. This is due to years of cherry flavored medicine, which eventually led to my association of the flavor with nastiness. "

His timing was perfect, it was the cinnamon bagel incident all over again.

(Although I found the vanilla flavoring mellows the cherry taste, allowing me to enjoy my treat. Still I couldn't get over the rather hilarious timing.)

Have you ever inadvertently given your loved ones a failure of a gift?


Monday, June 25, 2012

This year I accidentally broke Summer

I always look forward to Summer with its long stretches of blessed schedule voids punctuated with sporadic bursts of activity designed drive boredom away. Sleeping late and reading lots. Family bonding and lazy afternoons.  Perfection.

This year I accidentally broke Summer.

First there isn't proper voidness in my scheduling. Someone should have told me teenagers change everything. With parties, church camps, instrument lessons, golf camp, summer baseball, marching band practices, and never-ending phone ringing, the INSANITY never ends. In the minimal blank spaces we fit in visits to the pool, chores, reading time, and other "normal" summer activities. You want friends over? Better schedule it 4 months in advance.

And we're supposed to fit in a vacation, too?!?

As if that wasn't enough, the down time is decidedly not blessed. Sibling bickering is driving me insane. Two teenagers and two tweenagers (I swear the pre-pubescent mood swings are worse than the post-pubescent ones) keep the hormones in our house at DANGER- EXPLOSION IMMINENT!! levels. If you don't believe me you can walk by my house and hear it. You might only enter the neighborhood to hear it. I wouldn't be surprised if people are wondering about the noise all the out at the county border.

Given the state of Summer this year, I, of course, thought it would be the perfect time to start P90x. After all, taking an extra hour and half out of my schedule every day could only be made better by limbs too sore to move more than an inch in any direction. And why would I need to have any reserve of strength? Right? Might as well use it all up within 15 minutes of waking so I can have the rest of the day to deal with paragraphs 2 and 4.

So I'm exhausted, the kids are busy, our gas budget is atrocious, and I'm now hoping for some down time. In September. Of 2025.

Oh all right, I just might survive...