Tomorrow is my husband’s 41st birthday, so I’m giving him the best gift I could think of; I’m going out of town.

I feel a lot of guilt about this. Tons of guilt. Like, there is an elephant named Guilt sitting on my chest. Too much?

I will be attending the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop at the University of Dayton. There will be a lot of intelligent, hilarious women in attendance and I hear that, as far as humor writing workshops go, it’s the best. Not to mention that Erma Bombeck is my idol. *watches 20-something readers flee*

This workshop only comes around every other year and I spent two years waiting for them to release the 2012 dates. I couldn’t wait! And, when they did, I saw that the workshop fell smack-dab on my husband’s birthday. Dang the bad luck!

So, why am I talking about Erma Bombeck on my husband’s birthday? Because he is so unselfish, that he is giving me this gift. He does that a lot. For the last five years I have gone about living my dream, and before that I was able to stay home and raise our children; all while he plugs along at a thankless, commissioned, sales job in the mortgage business.

Yeah, meet my elephant.

This man has been faithful to our vows and has been true to me in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and he’s one of the most generous guys I know.

Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a grumpy, cynic. He is stubborn and, oh my goodness, does he like to be right. But, guess what? I’m not perfect either. Please see aforementioned in sickness and in health thing. Plus, I’ve gained so much weight since we got married that it’s possible you could mistake me for my elephant.

He is frequently funny, sometimes romantic, and always supportive. Not many men would say, “Honey, I’m going to the office, you just stay home and blog.” Go ahead and tell me that isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. *swoon*

So, while I’m off gallivanting through Dayton (to the extent that one can gallivant through small, Ohio towns) my husband will be shuffling the kids to and from school, softball and church and eating the day-old cake I made him. I hope he has a great day despite my absence, or even because of it (read: tossing cake, eating cookies that our friend always makes him).

Happy birthday, Dado Fali! Thank you for making my dreams come true.

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Me:

*wakes up, looks at clock, reads 4:00 AM*

I hope I can go back to sleep for a couple of hours. *stares at ceiling* Maybe I should just get up now and write a blog post. Or, I could work…yes, I should work, because I’ll be in Dayton for a writing workshop later this week and I’ll get behind because I’ll be off for a couple of days.

I feel so guilty that I’m missing my husband’s birthday because I’m going to be in Dayton. I wonder if it’s too late to cancel. Maybe we can celebrate his birthday tomorrow. I need to make a cake and get him a present. Oh, today is the dog’s birthday! I need to go to the store and get her some doggie ice cream. And, we need toilet paper. And, Zone bars.

But, I don’t have to do those things today. I do have to go to the post office and call two doctor’s offices and the health insurance company. Health. Sigh. I should get up and go to the gym right now. No, sleep is more important. I should sleep. Maybe I’ll lie on my side. Ouch, not on that side! Dang shoulder.

*snuggles up comfortably on other side* I’ll probably fall asleep and wake up in 20 minutes and have to pee. I should go pee now, but I’m so comfortable. Though, it’s a little warm under here. Am I sweating? I think I’m sweating. *throws blankets off* Well, I’m not comfortable anymore. I guess I’ll go pee.

*washes hands* Wow, my hands are dry. I could really use a manicure. And, a pedicure for that matter. But, we’re broke so I’ll have to do it myself. Yes, I’ll give myself a pedicure tonight. Oh, and wax my eyebrows. What am I going to wear in Dayton?

That reminds me, my daughter needs a costume for her school play next week. I love The Music Man. I can’t wait to see her singing, “Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little, cheep, cheep, cheep…”

*looks at clock, reads 5:18 AM*

“Pick a little, talk a little…” Great. Well, at least it got rid of that Barney song that another mom was singing at my daughter’s softball game last night. Oh, there’s a double-header on Saturday and I won’t be here. I need to pack a bag for my husband so he’s not stranded at the ball field with a bored nine year old. And, warm clothes and umbrellas, because it’s supposed to rain. Oh, and snacks. I can’t forget to get those Zone bars…

My husband:

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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So it has come to this.

That is my microwave with a rock glued to it.

Last week the door wouldn’t open and we were all, “What are we going to do with all of these bags of popcorn if we can’t open the microwave door?” We started using a screwdriver to pry the door open, but a screwdriver on your kitchen counter is not all that aesthetically appealing; unless, of course, it’s made of vodka and orange juice.

I thought maybe it was time to start scouring Craigslist or looking at scratch-and-dents at the local Sears outlet (because that’s how I roll), but my husband had other ideas. He went all Harry Home-Repairman on me and took it upon himself to…well…glue a rock to the door. When you hit the DOOR OPEN button and pull on the rock, I must admit, the door opens pretty well.

In his defense, he thought the rock would look nice. And, I happen to think the glue that was left to drip down adds a nice touch.

But, truth be told, I keep thinking about how I could hide a screwdriver when company comes over.

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Tomorrow morning, my mother-in-law is having breast cancer surgery. This is one of those times when I ask people to storm heaven with prayers. Thank you in advance.

I know that in-laws are often the butt of jokes, but not mine. They have never treated me with anything but kindness and love. It’s probably because I put up with their son, but that’s another blog post. *hi, honey* *blows kisses*

Unfortunately my in-laws live a couple of hours away which means that we don’t see them as often as we would like. Though, that hasn’t stopped my father-in-law from helping us build a swingset (then rebuilding the swingset after Hurricane Ike tore it down), helping us put up a shed, changing light fixtures so that I wouldn’t shock myself, repairing plumbing, and assisting with the development of a simple machine (kindergarten homework is, like, HARD).

My mother-in-law has made deviled eggs for my parties more times than I can count, shown incredible patience when teaching my daughter card games, kindly let my son run his hands all over her arms, and shown me that it’s possible to spend your life with a stubborn man. *waves* *puts husband’s favorite dinner in crock pot*

And, they both taught us how to make homemade wine. That’s what you call an in-law WIN!

Their living so far away makes it extra special when they visit. But, eventually you have to watch them pull out of the driveway.

And, the boy in that picture really hates that part.

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