Friday, April 18, 2008


Wednesday evening, we had a "picmic" in Cardo's car. After I got home from class, we went to pick up the car from Audio Express on the opposite end of town (Cardo had just had a new alarm installed because a couple of weeks ago, his car was broken into while he was working). Pic and Cardo rode in his car and I followed in mine. A couple of moments down the road, I watched as Cardo's radio antenna lowered and then rose again. We turned left and it happened again. The emergency flashers clicked on. Cardo got out and pushed his car into the empty parking lot of a restaurant that serves only breakfast and lunch. Apparently, the car had died twice and Cardo was convinced that the people who had installed the alarm had screwed up (as the wonderful people at Best Buy did when he had the first alarm installed). We called the insurance and, after the operator was sure that we were in a safe place and that there were no injuries or medical problems, we were told that a tow truck would arrive within an hour. Cardo was barely containing his anger (he was seriously pissed off) and I didn't want to sit in the car for an hour, so Pic and I walked over to the nearby Quizno's to get sandwiches. I told Pic we were going to have a picnic in the car, and we did.

The car was towed back to Audio Express, where it stayed overnight. We picked it up Thursday and it died a couple more times so we dropped it off at a garage where it stayed overnight. This morning was a frantic rush of getting the three of us ready and dropping everyone off where we needed to be. I was somewhat okay with all of this, until this afternoon.

A little background is needed here. During high school and the first year of college, I had a group of friends to "shop" with. I write "shop" because we rarely bought anything, but we had a blast trying on clothes...especially when we chose the ugliest outfits we could find and tried those on (ah, Poke, those were the days!). Skip forward about six somewhat-friendless* years of college (I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but I don't make friends easily) and I now have a group of friends I'd feel comfortable going shopping with. Clothes shopping with Cardo is okay, yes, but we don't try on clothes together and I hate feeling like he could be doing better things with his time (although he assures me he doesn't mind shopping with me -- and, shopping with him is kind of great because he so wonderfully naively asks questions like "You're a size six, right?").

Back to this afternoon. I had the opportunity to go shopping with friends, but I'm a mamma and a wife. Yes, I chose these...identities, and I love being a mamma and a wife, but sometimes I get so hung up on what I have to give up in order to be these things. Instead of shopping (for much-needed new bras among other items), I had to go pick up the beauty-baby and then go pick up Cardo from work so that we could go shell out $421 and pick up his car.

Cardo would drive to Oklahoma to pick me up, if I needed him to (although what I'd be doing in Oklahoma, I have no idea...perhaps visiting the home where the Hansens grew up???**), but when he needs me to drive 20 minutes to pick him up, all I want to do is whine about how I'm missing out on a chance to hang out with the ladies. I didn't whine, but, really, how did I get to be so selfish? Is this normal? Is it even okay for me to feel this way, considering I do have family obligations that I chose to embrace? I think so, but I also think that I just need to get over it already. There will be bras to be tried on and bought other days.

Thank you for letting me vent (not as if you, whoever you are, had any choice...hahaha (that's a wry laugh, not a hilariously-amused laugh)).

* when I say friendless, I just mean that I didn't have close friends who lived close to me. I have an abfab group of friends who have been a part of my life for years now (friends I met anywhere from elementary school through college).

** No, I have never been a Hansen fan, but because one of my abfab friends was, at one time, a Hansen fan, I STILL associate Oklahoma with Hansen...just as I associate license plates with the letters JRT with Justin Randall Timberlake.


Crystal said...

I know that feeling, that sneaking suspicion that I am just not as nice as my husband. Dangit, it's kind of a persisting nagging feeling that I get more massages, I get more complaint-free favors than I give...note to self. Need to work on that. Perhaps am not really making much progress at the moment, though, since he's watching the kid so I can work on papers but instead I am internetting...tomorrow. I'll work on it tomorrow.

I hope you get to make up your shopping trip at some point...