When my family came to visit for the holidays, we were blessed with warm weather.  This was unusual because the temperature always seems to dip into the teens (OK, forties) when my mother crosses the state line.

We took advantage by eating on the outside patio of Sea Critters, by far my favorite sea food restaurant in the Tampa Bay area.  Tom and I have successfully entertained many out-of-town guests there, as well as just gone for a twosome meal every now and then.  But remember, I’ve lived in this area for ten+ years now.  Sea Critters has been one of my go-to spots for almost as long.

Which led to the following conversation at the dinner table with my entire family…

Him:  It’s not too bad this time.  We usually have to wait.

Me:  Not always.

Him:  Yes, at least a little bit.

Me:  Not the time I got drunk off Mai Tais.

Him: ….

Me:  Maybe that wasn’t you.

Him:  Yes, you really should change states when changing husbands so that doesn’t happen.

Me:  Wasn’t a husband.

Him:  Well, hell.  There’s not enough states to start covering the rest of them!

“Who left this glass right here so I would think it’s my margarita?  Because I just swigged straight tequila.”

“Oppsies.”

TG:  How’s things at the sanctuary?

Me:  My co-worker just brought me a baggie of intern hair.  Does that sum it up?

Five minutes after Tom has told me a rather raunchy story from his past…

“I’m so happy.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t think most husbands can tell their wives stories like that.”

“Uh, like what?”

(Fingers smeared under nose such as end of said story) “That story.”

“Oh.  Well, whatever.”

“I’m so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yup.”

“That you have a crass slut as a wife?”

“Yup.”

“Ok then.”

Me:  I hate to miss another funeral.  You’re family is so close.

Him:  Is not!

Me:  You have some vague idea of where all of your cousins are right at this moment.  I am not entirely sure what contitent one of my cousins lives on.

Him:  Point taken.

(I still did not attend the funeral; other scheduling commitments prevailed.  Lord know what perceptions this is leading to.  At the other funeral?  Tom was accused of making me up.  An imaginary wife.  Which seems to be a running theme for me.  Do you think being imaginary could get me out of doing dishes?  Perhaps I could call in imaginary to work?)

“So I checked on my beer, and some of it is carbonating very well, and some of it not so well.  It says to carbonate for a minimum of 7 days…I think I will let it carbonate 10-14 days.”

“At 7 days, why don’t you drink one of the most carbonated ones and one of the least and then decide what you like best?”

“You do realize you just suggested I drink 2 liters of beer?”

“Well, you married me for a reason, right?”

“True.”

The prelogue to this conversation is that despite receiving a third vehicle over four months ago, despite calculating IN A SPREADSHEET (the most sacred document in our household) the sale of the truck into our financial decisions, despite REPEATED badgering/nagging/threatening from me, the truck remains dirty, unsold, and in a vistor’s spot by the pool at the condo… 

Me:…So can we add that to your to-do list?

Him:  Sure.

Me:  Like the truck?

Him:  Don’t forget to add “Beat the wife”.

Me:  Given your ability to cross things off this list?  I’m not too scared.

“You know Norma, she has that disease….same as your friend.  Start’s with a c…”

“Cerebral Palsy?”

“No.  That old boyfriend.”

“…Corhn’s disease?”

“Yes!”

“Wow.  That was a while ago….that was over two husbands ago!”

“Now you’re just bragging.”

“I don’t think that’s something to brag about, Grandma.”

ST and I were on the Busch Gardens tram, heading into the park.  I looked to my right, and there he was.  NB.  It had to be.  That gelled hair.  The pock-mark under his left side-burn.

So I smiled, at first to myself as he was with a beautiful and skinny blond.  Then I smiled at him after poking him in the shoulder.

He looked at me as if I was a stranger.

I took the sun glasses off.  “NB?”

“No.  Sorry.”

“Oops!”

On reflection, the hair was too blond.  And he did not walk with the right stance when I saw him leave the tram.  But that pock-mark sure had me going.

ST slung an arm around my back, “Sorry dear.  But you can’t have dated them all!”

I was studying a manatee skull in lab today and perusing the papers belonging to it.

“Oh!”

“Hmm?”

“My ex-husband sent this in.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really.”