T-Bone and I don't do that adorable little thing some couples do - that precious "keeping tabs" on every blessed thing they do as individuals in order to make sure nobody gets more nights out or weekends off or less trips to the grocery store or the birthday parties or whatever the hell. I swear I know a couple that kept track of diaper changes, and not because they were nervous new parents (as we all were - I still have a legal pad full of feeding and poop charts for each bambina. Aww.), but because they wanted it to be FAIR. And EQUAL. And to make sure they each took the same amount of TURNS. Gawd. How old are you?
These are the same people who are all, "Well, Hubby got to play golf last weekend, so I'm planning a girls' night out because it's my TURN and he OWES me and it's only FAIR." Shutupshutupshutup. Aren't you both parents? And aren't you both (allegedly) adults? Then get over yourself and get on with it, jackass.
Here at Bone Industries, I'm the CEO (shocking), and T-Bone is the CFO (cuz math is hard, y'all). I'm in charge of day-to-day operations, scheduling, and wardrobe. T-Bone handles sustenance. I head up the art department. T-Bone runs building programs and landscaping. We split transportation duties (currently, with an assist from Mama Turista) and incidentals, and we all fall in to one big, happy heap at the end of the day. We have a great natural rhythm, and it just kind of happened on its own, not because we assign duties or keep a tally of who took out the trash last time. We just jump in whenever and wherever something is needed. I know I'm lucky to have such a true partner, and I realize T-Bone does more than most of his peers, but it just never occurred to either of us to do "it" any other way. We do it this way because we want to. Which is one reason my normally very mild-mannered esposo gets really bent out of shape when he's with Peach and Olive somewhere and some idiot says, "Oh - you babysitting today?" "No, I'm parenting." he says, through gritted teeth. Really, it's happened on several occasions. Hello? 21st century? Care to join us?
All this to say, this weekend, I was reminded again of how great I've got it. T-Bone had a beer-and-football marathon planned for Saturday, and I had a lovely brunch and shopping trip planned for Sunday. To the casual observer, it probably looked like some of that My Turn-Your Turn BS, but in reality, it just so happened that both events fell on the same weekend. I know some of his boyz were saying, "Man, I'm gonna owe my old lady big time for this." (or something to that effect - his friends aren't hillbillies after all. Most of them, anyway). And I overheard more than one fellow shopper bitching about her husband bitching about how long she'd been gone that day even though she didn't call him every hour last weekend when he was at that tailgate party with all those assholes from his work.
Sigh. I just don't get that. And I'm so happy that T-Bone doesn't either.
I’m surrounded by ‘em. So far, every week I've been at The Job, there's been at least one food-related event – usually two. Every time I turn around, there is some sort of bake sale/sausage wrap fundraiser/silent auction/costume contest going on somewhere in the building. In the first month alone, there was a pie eating contest, a blindfolded Jello eating contest, a Project Runway wacky dress-up contest, and a crazy co-worker costume contest. And when I went in this morning, I was nearly felled by the sights and smells of the barbacoa tacos being shoved down every open piehole. Damn, people, ease up. Then there was much talk of the vast array of donuts, muffins, and heat-and-serve tartlets just begging for a coffee chaser. It’s absolutely non-stop around here.
And don’t even try NOT to indulge because 47 people will come by your office to make sure you know that they’re about to run out of the chicken-on-a-stick so they’re slashing prices and you better haul ass to the break room if you want one. "It’s for a good cause." Yeah, and so were the make-your-own-ice-cream-floats and design-a-funny-hat-out-of-office-supplies contest we had last week. Doesn’t anybody ever work around here? Besides me, I mean?
Oh, and guess who opted OUT of the potluck Thanksgiving free-for-all/cake party tomorrow? Yup. And I loooves me some cake.
It really happened! A week later, and I’m still so excited about the New Guy. Every time I see a picture of him doing something President-Elect-ish, I smile. Maybe I even wink and give him a thumbs up. I just love the whole idea of purging and re-organizing and preparing to finally Move On. I am so ready, I can’t even tell you.
To add to the euphoria currently enveloping my house, I had the best conversation with Abuelita Turista the other night. She called me to say, "Girl – we did it!" and then to say, "Can you believe That Sarah and all those clothes? She didn’t even look that nice!" She told me she went to Mass to pray for Our New President because "he’s inheriting one helluva mess, idn’t he?" and because she’s worried about the "kooks and the crazies out there" that might try to hurt him. She says she can’t believe that at 90 years old, she was able to help put an African-American, and "an outstanding man," in the White House – something her father would have loved to have seen. Overall, she’s very positive about the outcome, but she can’t exactly share her enthusiasm with the rest of the family down there as they, for whatever reason, went with The Other Guy. And will give her no end of grief if she brings it up. Family. What are you gonna do?
We closed the conversation with our identical thoughts on the New First Daughters – and how much they remind us of Peach and Olive. Nearly the same age, and seemingly the same dispositions. The graceful older sister and the spunky younger sister, both appreciating and enjoying every minute of all this hoop-di-do. When that sweet family walked out together to claim victory on Election Night, THAT is when I lost it. We know that family. We are that family. And I am thrilled for all of us.
So we did it, y'all. HE did it. And I couldn't be happier. Really, truly. I think the sky was a bit more blue when I woke up this morning. And the drive to The Job not quite as painful. And T-Bone's excellent enchilada sauce just a tad more saucy. Amazing what restoring one's faith in The Hearts and Minds of My Fellow Americans can do. That and splitting a split of some old champagne last night with the best looking guy in the place.