Posts Tagged 'chicago'

And I just can’t seem to quit smoking….

April consistently proves to be a busy month in my household. Easter, birthdays, and spring break usually equal an eventful few weeks. This year was not an exception.
Easter fell early this year. I volunteered to host dinner because I ALWAYS volunteer to host dinner because then I can drink beer.
#1. I am a responsible parent and do not drink and drive. With the kids, anyway. Ever.
#2. No other family members usually offer beer at family functions. And if they do, it usually does not meet my standards. (Bass; or any other dark beer).
I should mention a few points here. Both of our families enjoy coming to our house for family functions because deep down they really want to drink too. (Don’t family gatherings naturally equal a deep desire to imbibe?) And even if they do not drink, the atmosphere is always more relaxed.
I remember attending a birthday party for one of my nephews before my sister graciously moved to Florida. My husband did not attend because I do not make him attend anything my sister and her douchebag husband host. I shall explain that dysfunctional relationship in a future post. My dad also attended said birthday party. About halfway through, he asked if my daughter could stay the night with him after the party. I said, “Sure!” and went to hunt down the douchebag to get a beer.
He studied the fridge much too intently before handing me the only beer the refrigerator contained. Bud Light. I shook my head, disgusted.
“No, thanks!” I futilely tried to feign politeness.
“Are you kidding me? You’re an alcoholic!” was his stupid response.
Instead of warning him, “Yeah, you grow up with my sister and see how much you drink!” since his marriage will certainly be affected sooner or later, I simply looked at my watch. Time to go.
I guarantee the douchebag has never drank a Bud light at my house. He beelines for the stocked garage refrigerator at my house every time he visits. It does not contain cheap beer.
Easter dinner just consists of the husband’s family. For obvious reasons. My Jewish family does not celebrate the resurrection of Christ. And yes, I just asked the husband while I was typing whether Easter was the resurrection or the birth of Christ.
The good Friday before Easter also marked the first day of the kids spring break. Years prior, we have gone on vacation. This year, their very short spring break started the Friday before Easter until the Wednesday after. The husband was scheduled to go back to work (YIPEE) on the 10th of April, so he and I decided to go away just the two of us for a few days.
The husband had surgery on his elbow and convalesced at home for 3 months. More accurately, he built himself a motorcycle. I think he agreed to go on a quickie vacation with me so I would like him again.
We decided on a few days in Chicago. We decided the night before we left. On Easter. My mother-in-law took the kids home with her after Easter dinner, and the husband and I left for Chicago Monday morning.
Chicago is such a fun city! The 6 hour drive was not too bad; mostly flat and not very scenic except for the hundreds of wind turbines through Indiana. And the freeway signs once we entered Chicago.
Fist of all, I made the husband Google how many drunk driving arrests were issued in Chicago per year. How the fuck do you drive drunk in Chicago?? It’s hard enough sober! Secondly, the freeway alerts blared the number of traffic deaths so far this year in the city. When we arrived on Monday, the first day of April, the sign proclaimed 222 deaths. The husband and I meandered around the city for almost 2 days. Every time (fucking often!) we heard sirens, I would say, “224!”
I know, I know…that’s morbid. Bu when we left, the sign read 226 traffic deaths so far this year. Essentially a day and a half later!
We ate well, we drank well, and we did other things well!
We came home and immediately celebrated my father-in-law’s birthday, kid #3’s birthday, and the husband’s birthday. (All within 6 days!) The real reason to celebrate?? The husband went back to work!
While we were in Chicago, he found several things he liked at the local Eddie Bauer store. “We” agreed everything he bought should be considered his birthday present.
I still felt obliged to get him something on his birthday. But what the fuck do you buy someone who buys himself whatever he wants?
I decided to blow up a picture I had taken of his motorcycle. It is, no matter how bitter I am, beautiful. The only pictures I had taken were on my phone, though, and were not good enough quality to enlarge to a poster size.
A great Father’s Day idea! But I still had no idea what to get him for his birthday.
So it is Wednesday morning. The day of his birthday. His first day back to work. I have dicked around on the computer trying to enlarge the un-enlargeable photo to the point where I am going to be even later to work than usual. The doorbell rings. Aaaaahh… the UPS guy!!
I grabbed the two packages off the front porch. I knew their contents contained parts for the husband’s motorcycle. Boxes had arrived daily for the past 3 months. I inspected the perfect-sized cardboard and knew they were the solution to my dilemma!
Yes. I sure as shit gift wrapped both boxes and left them on my kitchen table!
Watching him open his gifts later? Priceless!
He opened the first box and pulled out a chrome kickstand. His first reaction?
“How did you know?”
And then he started laughing. And remembered he married a Jew.

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