Just once I’d like to be married to someone who gets me.

Husbandrinka and I went to a party in DC over the weekend and we were staying with my college friend Kristin and her husband and daughter and in preparation for our staying with them, Huabandrinka sent me many emails and in each one he spelled Kristin’s name with an “e”.

At first I didn’t say anything because I figured how many times is he going to write her name, but apparently the answer was a A LOT because after the fifth email of KRISTEN this and KRISTEN that, the vein in my forehead was throbbing as loudly as Marisa Tomei’s biological clock was ticking in My Cousin Vinny.  But unlike Marisa, I suspected that there’d be no Oscar in my future for putting up with it.

“You know, Kristin’s name is spelled with an I,” I told him.

“Yes, of course I know,” he said. And then looked at me as though I were the weirdo in the conversation.

“Then why  have you been spelling it with an E?”

“Because that’s how Kristen is spelled.”

“No.”

“KRISTEN.”

“No, with an i—oh, I see.  With two I’s.”

“I didn’t know that. Usually Kristen is spelled with an e.”

“I wish you’d remember that her name is spelled with an i.  I’m under a lot of pressure this holiday season and I can’t deal with your spelling her name with an E.”

He looked at me as though I were something less than reasonable .  And then, probably to spite me, never wrote her name again.

“Hey, you know what?” I decided to add some fun to our relationship. “When you see Kristin, can you do me a favor and not mention the trip she and I took to Sedona last month?”

See, my plan was that he would say “why not?” a perfectly reasonable question, since I talked about my long weekend with my girlfriends so much and I’d say, “no reason” and be all mysterious and he’d suspect that instead of going with my girlfriends to Sedona I’d really gone some place else with a secret lover.

And then he’d accuse me and just as he was about to dismember me in a jealous rage, I’d say, “haha, just kidding! I really was with Kristin! Go ahead, ask her!” and we’d all have a fun laugh and he’d feel bad for not trusting me.

But instead of saying “why not?” like a normal person, when I asked Husbandrinka not to mention Sedona to Kristin, he said “ok.”

OK?

Why would he be ok with something so suspicious?!

Answer: To deny me happiness.

There is no other explanation.

________________________

Thank you very much to Babble (pronounced BabbEL, to rhyme with NOBEL) for including me in their list of The Top 100 Mom Blogs of 2011.  I’m number 96! I’m honored and humbled (and yet very braggy) to be included among such amazing writers.  I’m glad that not everyone is out to deny me happiness and joy!

Make plans to meet friends in Sedona for a long weekend of fun, friendship and relaxation.

Arrive in Sedona. Reunite with friends.

Talk.

Laugh.

Cry.

Laugh.

Eat, Pray, Love.

Go on a hike with friends.

Look around in disbelief.

The mountains are red.

The mountains look fake, like a movie set.

Decide that everyone should see this.

Feel peace.

Feel at one with nature.

Get a hot stone massage.

Sit in a steam room.

Have a margarita.

And a grilled cheese sandwich.

Talk some more.

Laugh.

Go to dinner and have the best Mexican food you’ve ever had.

Discuss with dining companions whether waitress is a tranny.

Argue “no” because no Adam’s apple.

Be informed that there’s now an Adam’s apple-ectomy procedure.

Star gaze.

Navel gaze.

Go to sleep.

Wake up.

Coffee and breakfast with friends.

Laugh.

Talk.

Look at college pictures.

Say “who’s that guy? He looks like a dick” while looking at one of the photos only to realize that it’s one of your friends.

Who’s sitting across from you.

Apologize.

But laugh.

A lot.

Read about vortexes.

Go on another hike.

Pet a horse.

Admire a cactus.

Sit in the jacuzzi.

Say things like, “maybe it’s just the vortex talking, but I think I’ll have another glass of champagne.”

Walk around in a robe.

Go to sleep.

As you’re falling asleep, hear a friend say, “last night I dreamt about baby ducks and bunnies. But they were up to something.”

Be unable to stop laughing at your friend dreaming about ducks and bunnies.

Fall asleep.

Wake up.

Go to the airport.

Settle in with a book.

Realize reading glasses are still at the hotel room.

Fume.

Seethe.

Remind self that self is now one with nature and has inner peace.

Chuckle to self and read book while squinting.

Land at JFK.

Feel relaxed and at peace and recharged and happy to be home.

Call Love of Life.

No answer.

Call Husbandrinka.

Haha, Husbandrinka is Love of Life. The Sedona vortexes have done wonders for your sense of humor.

Husbandrinka seems happy to hear that you’ve landed.

Ask what the kids are doing.

Hear that Beautiful Daughter is doing homework and Young Ladrinka is at a friend’s house, where he has been stationed all weekend and is not expected until 7 p.m. that night. Sunday night.

Innocently ask, “has he done his homework for tomorrow?”

Hear Husbandrinka say “no clue” as though you’d ask him if he knew what the recipe for Pepsi is.

LOSE SHIT COMPLETELY.

Say things like “is it so much to ask that when I go away for a simple weekend stay at an exclusive four star Sedona spa to drink champagne and have massages that you take care of things on the home front?! It’s really difficult to have inner peace and spirituality and all that shit when I know that I’ll have to oversee motherfucking homework tonight! EVERYTHING IS RUINED.”

Be accused by Husbandrinka of overreacting.

Wait for hear rate to return to normal.

Attempt to reclaim inner peace.

Email girlfriends to schedule another, longer trip.