Vacation day…let's just get to it...back to my tips for survival when your married and on a road trip...
#3 “When your man ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!”
They lied to you in counseling when they tried to say if momma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy, because momma learns real fast that “stress-free” man is who really sets the tone. Am I right, or am I right? My man doesn’t “un-wind” quickly once he is wound up. It makes me crazy! But it is what it is, and has been for as long as I’ve known him. In his defense, he has come a long way…but he’s still shy of a full adjustment.
“Stressed- out- were- behind- schedule” man is loading the car like a demon. This upsets me because I prayed the devil far, far away last night and I feel like it should have carried over this morning?! What’s up with that? I carry on my morning ritual of coffee, coffee, and one more coffee and go get dressed. We haven’t spoken to each other yet. I mean it’s not that we “aren’t” speaking, it’s just that I don’t speak in the mornings (its true!), and he’s probably thinking of the potential set back’s for later if he speaks his mind...hmmm… this seems like an EVERYBODY WINS situation!
But, let me be honest (since I’ve held back so far…) I’ve gone ahead and taken some meds for this trip. Today is NOT a day that I can be A-D-D, and after my prayers last night I have reverted back to my first pointer from yesterday and seen the absolute wisdom in medication for vacation. (It even rhymes:”medication for vacation’”- ya know? It’s like it was meant to be together!)
Even though we are running behind, I spend a little time with Jesus, via Matt Chandler on my ipod, which I feel can only improve my spiritual mindset…except that he’s preaching on and on about Habakkuk. – Which is a lot about the “discipline for our benefit God” and how our afflictions can be our greatest joy. It’s kinda making my blood pressure rise, which is the exact opposite of what I was hoping for. After listening for a while, what I want to do here is call up Matt and ask him to take this lil’ vacation with “were-off-schedule” man and see how that works out for his greatest joy….How you liking them apples, Matt? Uh-huh…that’s what I’m saying!
Ok, (deep breath) so I go to grab my bag and re-pack form my freak-out moment of packing yesterday and I realize that my man has zipped them and put them in the car. WOOOONDERFUL !!(sarcasm)…this is awesome. I don’t even know what I have in that bag. Yeah I’ve thrown some things around in a pile last night in total facade of packing, but I don’t even know what the weather is going to be like, and I’m pretty certain that the 2 pairs of pants I’ve packed haven’t fit me since 10th grade. On the other hand, my hair should look great, because I do recall the hot rollers got pitched in!
My best move in this situation would be to humble myself, grovel a little, and say something like, “honey, you were right (ouch!), I should have packed last night. (double ouch!) and in my immaturity I didn’t really pay attention to what I was taking, blah blah blah…”, but I’m not going to do that. I don’t feel humble, and that would mean speaking words, and it’s still too early for that. Instead I start gathering up little bits of things that come to mind, like pj’s, socks, a sweatshirt..I'm freaked that I’m going to end up in another city without a matching outfit!! I hear the car start and I know that I have about 3-4 minutes to get to the car.(positive side of “planner” guy is you can anticipate their moves like serial killers…gosh, I’ve gotta get that serial killer stuff outta my head!)
I grab my 2nd random collection of things, throw everything in a bag that will pass for a purse if questioned, and get in the car.
We’re off. Finally, were off.
I pull up the map on my phone and see this:
1058.8 miles is a LOOOOOONG way to drive...I do a sudden intake of air as I realize that we have about 11 hours ahead of us JUST today. Tomorrow at least that much…though I should refrain I cannot help but ask the question that eats at me….
“are you sure you don’t want to just drive straight through?”
My man:“NO!”
Me:“ok, you don’t have to shout!” and then we resume our driving positions.
Stressed-Out-Were-Behind-Schedule-Guy is mean. He should have spent time with Jesus too. I grab my magazines, and thank the Lord for my girlfriend “T”, for hooking me up with these! As I flip to page 1, -because evidently I’ll be reading all magazines cover to cover on this silent trip!, He starts conversation….(men have a little sensor that says “no talking” 90% of the time, BUT as soon as you act interested in something…their sensor fails and they want conversation….it’s true! I’ve asked professionals!)
My man: “where do you want to eat lunch?”
Me: “What?, it’s like 9:00 a.m. I’m not even hungry, are you?”
My man: “I’m getting there, and I want a plan I don’t want to be wandering around looking for a place to eat.”
Me: “ok, I’ll be looking and thinking.”…(maybe…if you’re really nice to me…ok, not really)
And this is where my other tip comes into play…
#4 –Food is a very important part of a road trip…to everyone….
My man likes to sit down, at a restaurant, and dine. He’s a runner. He prefers healthy food. He thinks through what he’s eating, how it may or may not affect him in 2-24 hours. He never over indulges or just throws down at a meal. Never. He’s very self disciplined (I know ,I know, he got that from me-NOT). And, if that is not enough to make you crazy, he doesn’t want to just meet the waiter, but know where he’s from, see pictures of his children, oh, and occasionally invite other diners into our conversation.
I on the other hand am more of a carny’ {Def: carny- a really cool cat that can eat a hotdog on the road, but not at home. Buying peaches on the side of the road in a po-dunk town has great appeal to her. Junior Mints, Hot Tamales, chili cheese Fritos, and a steady stream of caffeine make her feel alive. (and chatty) This person is also known to frequent Bucees gas stations, and occasionally eat Blizzard’s from Dairy Queen on road trips. None of these things are ever, EVER, part of her normal diet but she likes to get to her destination knowing the truth is: it’s NOT the journey, but the destination that counts!”
This is probably the hardest part of our marriage…and the training we never received. I feel that this could have been the tipping point in our brief engagement. I’m certain our counselor played a terrible trick on us. Whatever the case, you need to have the “meal” discussion long before you start planning a trip...or marriage.
Another factor to consider is: who defines “meal times?” Planner guy likes to know at the prior meal where you will be stopping for the next meal. Carny girl likes to go with the flow, possibly even skip a meal (eegads! Say it isn’t so!!) and just eat when the feeling hits you. Sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn’t. just because the clock says noon, doesn’t mean you have to eat!!! and seriously it’s sooooo not going to kill you to eat hot tamales and junior mints 2 meals in a row. You want healthy? I’ll get you a fried pie and warm it in the microwave at the next Loaf ‘n Jug. You’ll get your fruit and you can get milk if it makes you feel better! Good grief! Planner guy thinks this is ridiculous thinking. It makes the horns on his head poke out and that vein on his forehead start to throb. Carny girl just thinks he’s ridiculous! It’s a tenuous tightrope, one I know all to well!
But… before you pass judgment on me…remember: I am a great wife. Let me tell you how great of a wife I am… I can probably tell you every restaurant between here and northern Colorado. BOO-YA!!!! I can also tell you where there is no food for miles….lots and lots of miles…and that if you leave at 9am or later, meal times are not going to match up with restaurants. And this is a BIG problem. Life changing stuff.
The good news is we make the lunch place only a little past “lunch time” and I keep the conversation on how lucky we are that we don’t have to wait to be served etc. etc. He’s buying it. So far so good! Phew! I evade questions about the dinner stop and instead try and keep him fixated on our waiter lady who has very few teeth and either 6 children or 6 grandchildren…I’m just not sure. As we get back on the road we enter the part of Texas that I like to call “Depression West.” Or “Suicide Valley.”…aka- “Who would ever, EVER(!) call this brown tundra home?”
We’ll, apparently my man would. Because we aren’t too far along, when he reaches for my hand, turns to me, and says with sweetness, “Gosh it’s beautiful out here! I’d love to retire to a place like this with you!”
I try to refrain. I want to hold back. I really do. But I can’t let this go. My future could very well depend on it. I reach for a chili cheese frito and a junior mint to keep from talking, but the words come bursting out of my mouth, “Well you need to find you a retirement wife and children, because this is NEVER going to happen. You may feel mislead on a lot of things, but this is not one of them. I have been straight up about where ‘home’ is from day 1…so don’t… ” and then I just stop. I can see he quit listening to me as he is fondly gazing out the windows as if the tumbleweeds and dust blowing is the most beautiful scene he’s ever laid eyes on. No, he’s not even remotely listening to what I have to say. Yes, he’s picturing “home.” Me, I’m picturing a shriveled up old lady on a porch talking to herself, hallucinating that tumbleweeds are people, and herd of cattle are her friends. I. AM. AFRAID.
As we see a sign for Dimmitt, Texas and I realize this is my chance to bring him back to reality, “you know this is where “C” grew up, and see how happy she is in Houston? I just think if it was soooo great she would have gone back…(never mind that fact that she married someone who’s job is in Houston…that’s not the point!)” – It’s a manipulative statement, but nonetheless necessary. He states something like, “No, I think she did like it here in DImmitt, think about it, she goes home often.”
Me, “Nope, she only goes back to make sure they are still alive. (and aren’t talking to cattle!)”
My man: “Whatever!”
Me: “you whatever!”
I feel mature as we do this. Very adult like and mature. I secretly pledge to bribe “C” with whatever means necessary to talk about the lonely, sad life of small towns.
As we get close to Amarillo, my man says, “I’ve been patient. (when? seriously now?!) But where are we eating?”
I’ve got nothing. Nada. Zilch. Listen people, have you been to Amarillo? It’s the armpit of Texas. Dreadful.
I’m prepared to feast on my carny snacks, but I can tell he’s past the,I’m- getting- hungry stage and entered the scary phase of, Feed- the- animal.
If you are not familiar with this, you are blessed. Get on your knees and thank God. Seriously. Feed the animals phase is annunciated with short replies, “Yep. Nope. Make a decision. Hurry.” – Oh, and the ever loved BIG exhale sigh and bulging vein on the side of the head. Ladies you can quickly recognize this phase by the fact that your mans eyes get squinty like a tiger ready to launch at a piece of meat. It’s a fright. Do not ask questions, or attempt to strike up conversation… and by all means do not try and negotiate ANYTHING(!) at this point. It ends badly.
But I forgot this rule…ok not really. But listen, I was still a little bitter from last night. So in my intelligence, I start in with, “You pick! What sound good to you? I mean, I’m not even hungry!, Ya kow, you that you should have had some of those chili cheese fritos earlier! They really do the trick!” He growls, (apparently the demons are back!) and says in a clipped, staccato beat:
“I.Dont.Care. (sigh…exhale…vein throb)…Find a restaurant. Now! It’s 9:00 at night, Pen, and im not jackin’ around.” (geesh…he’s an angry little elf)
Me: “do you want to check into our hotel first?” ( I can’t help it, I feel the insatiable need to irritate him a little….why do I do this?)
My Man: “Penny, Don’t do this.”
Me: ohhhkaaaay, I was just asking. (geesh)
We find ourselves dining at the Big Texan Steak Ranch – I’m not even kidding. As we enter there is a kid on stage attempting to eat a 72 ounce steak for $100. This place is all things white-trash-texas-cheezy. They have a live rattlesnake for “your viewing pleasure”, creepy people walking around in costume- like 70’s western attire-, and you hear a whole lot of y’all and howdy folks! Weird. So weird. My man and I are back to our limited speaking roles, (but seriously, were getting along JUUUUSSST fine!) but as he finishes his raw meat, and his eyes begin to open from the glare he has been giving me for the last 2 hours, we both lock eyes and start to laugh. On top of everything, they are filming a commercial at this place and there is a group of (no joke!) French (like from France, people!) BIKERS walking around. So between all the howdy, Y’alls, and Come on back now’s, we hear an occasional, “ciao” and watch grown, bearded, grungy looking men kiss other men(!)-square on the lips-, and hug on each other for long periods of time..like past the point of “hey dude good to see you…” type of hug. It’s like a complete oxymoron to this place. As the camera heads our way, I’m up and outta my booth and long gone. I look like an orphan and there is no way on earth I’m taking part in a commercial. I’ve got limits ya know?
We find our hotel, and get to our room. I lay on one bed and my man on the other. The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is him saying, “Are we really sleeping in separate beds in a hotel room when we don’t have our children?”
I don’t even reply.
~Sigh~ I’m already in my own thought world…
how much further till I see my #1…Why are we driving this trip and not flying…When did my man become a health freak..And when did I become a carny…I hope every hotel he picked has a free breakfast with a waffle maker…I really dig that waffle maker…Does he really think I’d ever live in the open prairie? I wonder if he should be on medication...and at what point did we start sleeping in separate beds at a hotel without our children?
Day 1 is over, I am fearful for the rest of this trip, but feel strongly that tomorrow I will rebound and put my best foot forward…I think…maybe….
But I am only human,
and I am married to my extreme opposite….which doesn’t feel like a compliment,
and we still have well over 500 miles….and at least 10 more meal times to work through.
I am strong. I can do this….
Maybe,
~pen
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